


We've Got Your Six

by pchberrytea



Series: We've Got Your Six [1]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Original Character(s), Other, POV Multiple, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-11 11:30:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 90,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20152882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pchberrytea/pseuds/pchberrytea
Summary: After spending days fighting through the Commonwealth alone and trying to outrun her ghosts, Diana stumbles into a firefight - and into the Brotherhood of Steel.Surviving out in the wasteland is tough when you're alone. Luckily for them, the personnel from Recon Squad Gladius have each other. No one has to fall with the Brotherhood at their back.





	1. Countin' Flowers

Diana Carter couldn’t help but let out a frustrated sigh. Cataloging ammunition was boring. 

Tedious. 

Irritating. 

Knight Rhys had made sure it would be mindnumbingly so. She was well aware of the Knight's distrust, but she was determined to win some of that trust and finish the assigned task to his liking. Even if that meant she had to count out every single bullet individually. 

The task reminded her of an old song, and she soon found herself humming the tune while all of the new Brotherhood soldiers drifted in and out of the Cambridge police station. It didn’t take her very long to get lost in her thoughts while she carried out her grunt work. 

_Countin’ flowers on the wall, that don’t bother me at all... _

It had only been three days since the Prydwen had arrived, and with the airship came seven new people now posted at the station. She glanced up from her clipboard and sizeable pile of ammunition when she heard the lobby doors creak shut. The person walking in now was Morgan. 

Lancer Morgan was a certifiable dreamboat. He had the cool job, the cheeky grin, that bit of a drawl when he spoke... 

Well, shit. She felt way too old to be drooling over some young, dimpled, Brotherhood mischief-maker. It was awfully hard not to notice him, though. Not when he removed his flight helmet and his hair fell almost to his shoulders like _that_. In fact, she was pretty sure she’d even seen Scribe Haylen take a second look once when he’d taken that helmet off. His hair was just so perfectly, effortlessly tousled. 

Huh. 

Was hair like that even regulation? It wasn’t easy to tell when everyone was always wearing hoods or caps or when they were outfitted in giant suits of metal. She knew that Haylen kept her hair in a ponytail, but unlike Diana’s messy bun, Haylen’s was always pulled back and kept neatly under her cap. 

Meanwhile, Diana tried to tell herself that she was doing the best she could when she didn’t own so much as a hairbrush. Here she was, surrounded by unfamiliar faces, trying in vain to look put together with her half-assed bun and ill-fitting road leathers. Every single one of these people had an almost-pristine orange jumpsuit, and their hair... well, most of the hair she’d actually _ seen _was short. Oh, God, was she going to have to cut her hair? 

“Evenin’, miss Carter. Looks to me like you’re doin’ some inventory?” 

The drawl jerked Diana from the depths of her inner dialogue and right back in to Cambridge. Shit, shit, _ shit_. Of _ course, _Morgan wanted to talk now. Speak of the Devil, the saying goes, but apparently just thinking of the Devil did the trick. 

“Yes, Lancer. Um...Sir.” 

She was still working on the titles. With all of these new soldiers hanging around, she wasn’t completely sure what rank was what or how, exactly, Lancers fit into the chain of command. Something about the uncertainty in her voice made the young Lancer chuckle, though. “You can just call me Ashton, if you’d like. Now, if you’ve just about gotten that ammo counted, I found something for you.” 

“Sir?” 

“_Ashton_,” he corrected with a shake of his head and a sideways grin, “unless you really want me to start pullin’ rank, _ Initiate_. Anyway, here you go.” 

He produced a small orange rectangle from the inner lining of his bomber jacket and held it out. He looked rather pleased with himself, although from her observations over the past couple of days, he usually looked pretty pleased with himself. 

“A holotape?” 

“Well, yes, ma’am. Haylen says you’ve been collecting ‘em.” 

Well, there was a hint of truth to that. The rest of the Brotherhood was out there collecting and repurposing old technology or something, and Diana? Well, she was just tired of the same six or seven songs playing on Diamond City Radio all of the time. So far, she’d only found five holotapes and only one had any music on it, anyway. 

She ran her fingers over the ridges on the little cartridge and jammed the tape into the slot on her pip-boy, holding her breath and hoping for the best. 

_ Why the heck are they making us record this... oh crap, it’s on isn’t it? Ahem. Um, this is Technician Rand, _ _ ArcJet _ _ Propulsion Division... _

That was right, Paladin Danse had marked ArcJet for sweep and retrieve. Well, shoot. She must have missed this one during the initial trek with the Paladin a few weeks ago. Before she could catch herself she let out a disappointed sigh, which in turn prompted an eyebrow raise from Morgan. 

“Not quite what you were lookin’ for, miss Carter?” 

“No, sir. This is great. I’m sure that this information could prove... useful. To the cause.” 

She couldn’t even convince herself that she’d meant what she just said. 

“I can tell you’re fibbin’, _Initiate_,” he teased. “Now, if you aren’t gonna properly introduce yourself and let me in on what you’re doin’ with these tapes, I could just let Rhys get back to hazin’ you...” 

Diana let another sigh escape her. This guy had only been around the station for a couple of days, why was Haylen even talking about her collecting? If you could even call five – now six – holotapes a “collection”. Still, if spilling the beans got her out of having to count all of these ammo boxes alone... 

“Diana Carter. I’ve only been an Initiate for a couple of weeks. I’m...well. I was just looking for some music to listen to,” she admitted. Just thinking about it started to get her worked up, and when Diana got worked up, sometimes she tended to ramble. “Diamond City Radio doesn’t have a whole lot of variety. There had to have been more that survived the blast. The DJ seems nice enough but between you and me, he sounds like he’s got a gun to his head! It’s almost like he’s being forced into the job.” 

Morgan certainly got a kick out of that answer, judging by the fit of laughter that he’d collapsed into. After a solid minute he was still shaking from his fit when he held his hand out to shake hers. 

“Hoooo, boy. You sure ain’t kidding about that DJ. Pleased to meet you, Diana. I think we’re going to get along just fine.” 

Diana had only been out of the vault for about a month, now. Even though she’d joined up with Recon Squad Gladius shortly after she’d escaped her underground prison, she still hadn’t really felt like any of the squad were her friends. Rhys probably hated her, and no matter what she did she wasn’t so sure that he’d ever change his mind. Haylen was kind to her, though, and Danse... something about him felt achingly familiar. Still, when there were only the four of them posted at the station, she’d never had any downtime to get to know them better. There was always too much to do, but now? 

Now, a friendly young Lancer was holding his hand out for her to shake, and she obliged him with a grin. 

“Well then, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Ashton.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I am super duper late to the Fallout 4 train, but I had way too many headcanons to just keep in my head.
> 
> Fair warning - There is going to be a fair bit of canon divergence in the story. Most of this comes as a result of wanting to explore a different take on sole, and wanting to tell some Brotherhood stories, do some character building. You know.  
The song that Diana is humming in the beginning is "Flowers on the Wall" by the Statler Brothers.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like what I've got, cuz this is my very first rodeo.


	2. Dominoes

When the Paladin’s away, the mice will play. Within reason, since Rhys didn’t really want to be thrown in a cell again. 

In the span of the 48 or so hours that Danse was away from the police station there were two hazings, several games of blackjack, an unfortunate bout of food poisoning, a minor explosion, and a sunrise sing along. Every single one of these events was linked to Rhys’s attempt to haze two initiates, and the domino effect that sprang forth from a simple task.

The Paladin had taken his leave the day prior, with Initiate Carter’s return from a retrieval mission a few hours after Danse’s departure. Good, with both initiates under the roof, it was time for some fun. The following morning started exactly like you would think – with Rhys issuing questionable orders to the two after making them run a mile or so with some weighted backpacks. To be fair, the hazings themselves were minor, it was just what happened afterward that was a, uh, minor setback. 

To start Knight Rhys had tried to send Carter on a “snipe hunt”. _ “Sir, with all due respect, I wasn't born yesterday,” _ was the reply she’d given him. Fine, whatever. Maybe she wasn’t as gullible as the other vault dwellers that Rhys had met before. Twenty pushups for questioning his orders. And then he added ten more because Jesus, she may be a pretty good shot, but Carter had no upper arm strength whatsoever. Why had Paladin Danse recruited her, again? 

The knight wasn’t in a creative mood, and the only other revenge that he could come up with on the spot was to make Carter do something boring. So, he sentenced her to taking all of the bullets out of their ammo boxes, counting them, and putting them back. Twice, just to make sure she had counted right. There was plenty available to count, too, since replenishments arrived with the Prydwen. This stuff had to be inventoried anyway, just not quite so closely. 

The snipe hunt became the other initiate’s responsibility. 

What was that new guy’s name? O’Connell, or something like that? He had come to the station when the Prydwen arrived, along with a few other knights and the lancer. Unlike Carter, O’Connell didn’t hesitate to follow Rhys’ orders. Good.

The fact that O’Connell was so eager to follow orders pleased Rhys, but he really hoped the kid wasn’t a total moron. Hell, the guy was out of the station before he was even briefed on what Rhys’s fictional “snipe” was supposed to look like. This was harmless enough though, right? Hopefully this wouldn’t come back to bite the knight in the ass like the last time he tried to mess with a potential candidate. 

“_Look, Rhys, I get it. I was an initiate once; I know how it goes. If you’re going to mess with potential recruits at least make sure they learn something from the experience. And for God’s sake, don’t piss off the entire Commonwealth in the process. If we’re going to win the hearts and minds of the people, we’ve got to behave like we care.” _

Rhys took a moment, albeit brief, to reflect on what Danse had told him when he locked him up for disorderly conduct. Rhys had tried to get some Commonwealth wasteland candidate to do something simple and useful – gather provisions for the recon squad. The problem came from him telling the kid to do this “by any means necessary”, which ended up being interpreted far too loosely. This did not reflect so well on him, and by extension, the rest of his team. The yelling match with the traders hadn’t helped, either. 

What Rhys had_ meant _ was that maybe the guy could help a farmer put down a couple of raiders, or convince them to help out in some other way. Trade? Caps? There were plenty of legitimate ways to restock supplies. So then how the hell was it Rhys’s fault when the dumbass decided that the best way to get supplies was to hold up a trade caravan and kill their brahmin? This wasn’t tryouts to be in the Commonwealth’s next big raider gang. 

Well, at least his time in lockup had been short lived. A few days after being put in the cell and having to shell out whatever caps he had left to pay for that lady’s damn brahmin, the firefight with the ghouls had happened. He earned his freedom when he took a hit from the ghouls trying to save Keane, and another hit in place of Haylen. Then of course,_ Carter _ had to stumble in and “save the day”. The rest was history and, well, here we were a few weeks after that. Still not authorized to leave the station 'cause of his injuries and handing out stupid orders to greenhorns. 

When all was said and done, it really shouldn’t have surprised Rhys that Initiate O’Connell came back with a mole rat only a few hours after being sent on his hunt. Did O'Connell live under a rock? The fact that O'Connell, a supposed wastelander of all people, didn’t know what a mole rat was? Well, no wonder the kid was gullible enough to go hunting for a non-existent creature. People’s ignorance knew no bounds. 

After lecturing O’Connell on the dangers of taking off without a full mission briefing, and a quick lesson on the fauna of the commonwealth (hint: snipes don’t exist, moron), it was time to join some of the other fine Brotherhood folks for some cards. 

In between their collective missions and assigned watch shifts, there was actually a little down time for the soldiers now that reinforcements had arrived. Today’s festivities included blackjack, and since half of the soldiers were currently broke, they were betting provisions. Awesome, because that Salisbury steak on the table was as good as Rhys’s. 

Three of the newcomers, people that Rhys didn’t recognize, lost everything they had after playing a few rounds. He couldn’t really understand it, but for some god forsaken reason they had decided it would be a good idea to roast that mangy-ass mole rat that O’Connell had brought back. I mean come on, it’s not like these guys were starving or something. Rhys would rather go hungry for a few hours, especially when his survival wouldn’t have counted on eating some strange while they were in the relative comfort of the makeshift fortress. 

Whatever. Their loss was his gain, and he was going to reach that chair at the top of the guard post with a warm belly. Praise the Lord for pre-war preservatives and Salisbury steak. 

Things at the station had gotten pretty quiet lately. After Rhys had sent Carter to clean out the ghouls in college square, watch had become uneventful. Even so, there was always the potential threat of whatever scum might be passing by. To the misfortune of the entire squad, tonight’s quiet was going to take a bit of an unexpected turn. 

“Oh God. Mole rat on a stick was a -” _ belch _ “really bad idea -” _ hurk _ “EXCUSE ME.” The knight that was supposed to be on watch with Rhys was gone before anyone else could process what was going on. As if on cue, the other two that had joined in on the mole rat culinary experiment were also bolting for the latrine. Those not in the know drew their weapons and readied themselves for battle in the confusion of the scrambling knights. 

“Alright, alright. Holster your weapons, people. It’s just a case of food poisoning.” Christ, Rhys was embarrassed to even have to SAY something like that, though he might not have had to if he had waited much longer. The stench coming from the three knights was soon enough to drive the rest of the squad out into the courtyard. Rhys shook his head and sighed. These three knights and O’Connell... that made four morons that needed to be babysat. Defeated, he resumed his post on top of the wall. This time alone, since the other guards were now indisposed. The night air was nice, at least. 

“Have you learned your lesson yet, big guy?” 

“What lesson?” A grin broke out across the Knight’s face when he turned to meet the voice that was climbing up the steps. Haylen. She was probably Rhys’s favorite person in this god-forsaken wasteland. They’d known each other for a while, and well...she just got him. “These new people are idiots.” 

“Oh, come on, Lancer Morgan can handle himself, and Carter isn’t so bad. You just have to give her a chance.” 

“Haylen, Carter can barely do pushups. She’s about as tough as InstaMash.” 

“Oh, and how many pushups do you see me doing?” Haylen chuckled, and turned to lean on the wall. She clearly had a soft spot for the new initiate, even though Rhys hadn’t seen them interact a whole lot. The loyalty that Haylen always had for her team, even if she was sometimes a little too quick to defend them, was something that Rhys loved about her. 

Hold on, no. Not loved. Admired, maybe. Rhys didn’t have time for something like that, he had other priorities, like - 

_ KABOOM. _

The knight and the scribe turned to each other, and then in the direction of the noise. The latrines? 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, what now?” The brief peace Rhys had felt evaporated instantly, but he’d gladly take the distraction from his wandering thoughts. Was this still because of the mole rat on a stick? _ Fan-fucking- _ _ tastic _ he thought, and set off to see what could possibly be happening now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "mole rat on a stick" quote that you can hear from various Brotherhood members was the inspiration for this.  
Not all of my stories will be about dumb shit, I promise.


	3. Team building exercises

Ah, if only they could see it now. 

Haylen let a wistful smile creep across her face. She was proud of how far the police station had come since the original recon team had stumbled upon it. The building was remarkably stable, but the insides had left something to be desired. Still, with a bit of elbow grease, the team had managed to put together some decent fortifications and make the place entirely habitable. Dawes, Keane, Brach, Worwick...they had all contributed. And though they were now gone, their work had not been in vain. 

At approximately 0200 hours, the boom echoed from the direction of the two latrines around back. Those had been the last piece of the puzzle left to make the place a real base of operations. It felt almost like an eternity since they had been dug out, though in reality it hadn’t been all that long. 

Haylen, along with the rest of the station’s personnel, had been concerned that there was some crazed raider with a missile launcher attacking the place when the big boom hit. Rhys left the guard post immediately to investigate, and Haylen, laser pistol drawn, was not far behind him. In retrospect, she might have preferred a raider attack. 

Instead, what awaited the two was a sight to behold. Most of the latrine to the left was blown apart, and a few feet away was Knight Howe knocked out cold on his back. The latrine to the right was still mostly intact, aside from the hole blown in its side. A second wide-eyed and sickly knight peered out of his new window from within, caught with his jumpsuit down in the aftermath. This was far more ass than Haylen had wanted to see today. 

“What the hell happened here, Knight?” 

Haylen had to stand back a few yards while Rhys interrogated Rodriguez, the man on the toilet. Everything about the scene was an assault to the senses, and Haylen found it remarkable that Rhys was able to stand so close to conduct his investigation. She was definitely going to have to assess Howe for a concussion, since there was no telling how hard he had hit the ground. He was incredibly lucky that he hadn’t blown himself to bits. Hey - hadn't she seen a third knight running in this direction a short while ago? Was HE the one that had blown up the little shack? 

Oh, no. Oh, no no no. The wasteland was unforgivable, and there were many horrible ways to die, but this? 

Haylen heaved a sigh of relief when she spotted the third knight slowly making his way up the river banks toward the station, enamel bucket in tow. Thank God, because explaining all of this to Paladin Danse upon his return was already going to be a bitch. Their commanding officer had already been absent for a day and a half, and there was no telling how soon he would be back. 

“You’re kidding me, right? You threw a lit cigarette, AND abraxo cleaner, down the hole?” 

Knight Howe had apparently come to while Haylen was scanning for the third of the mole rat musketeers. The man made an attempt to muster all of the contempt that he could to direct a glare back at Rhys, but he couldn’t muster much. Instead he resigned himself to give a weak “affirmative” to Rhys. As it turned out, all of this had happened because Howe thought that he _ maybe _ felt well enough to indulge in a cigarette while making an attempt to clean his mess. This was obviously a colossal oversight. 

Rhys was at a loss for words, and Haylen could see that he was exasperated. They would laugh about it tomorrow, but for now they had to get this guy cleaned off. Haylen was NOT going to let him through the gate until he was, even if Elder Maxson himself issued the order. It was unsanitary. 

“Fun fact, Knight. Methane is flammable.” It was a gamble for Haylen to be chiding a senior officer, even if it was meant to be light-hearted. Thankfully, Knight Howe seemed to take the comment in stride. “Come on, let's get you cleaned up so I can take a look at your head.” 

By 0500, three knights were hosed, treated, and given plenty of water to drink. The worst of their bout of food poisoning had come to pass, and Haylen had done everything she could think to do aside from tucking them in and telling them a bedtime story. Somehow Howe had managed to luck out without any major injuries, aside from some relatively minor burns and his very bruised ego. The three should be grateful, because the rest of the squad had come together to try to help clean up _ their _mess, at least to the best of their ability in the dark. 

Everybody else was just grateful the weather was so clear, because none of them wanted to set foot inside of the station. Though the scene of the crime may have been out back, everyone had decided that it would be best to congregate around a campfire in the courtyard. A hazard of building the little outhouses so close to the building, it would seem. 

Ah well, it was probably a good idea to let the inside of the station air out, anyway. They were in the early hours of the morning now, and the sun would soon be peeking over the horizon. Heck, if they were lucky, the station air would be cleared out and the molerat musketeers could be digging a new latrine by noon. 

There was a spot at the fire available over next to Lancer Morgan and Initiate Carter, who looked to have become fast friends. _ Good, _ Haylen thought, _ Diana could use a friend. _ Besides, if Morgan was over there talking to Carter, then that meant he wasn’t following Haylen around. It was a win-win. Not that there was anything _ wrong _with Morgan following her around, per-se. 

Well, Haylen wasn’t really sure what she thought about Morgan, aside from the fact that yeah, the guy was a looker. Credit where it’s due, she supposed. However, she still had residual feelings for Rhys, even though he’d said he didn’t return them. Still, she let it slip to the lancer that Carter was collecting holotapes just so that she could continue her work in peace for a little while. 

Alright, then. She was going to take the bait and join them, and what do you know? The pair were talking about holotapes again. 

“Oh, come on now, Diana. Just play the tape.” 

“No way, Morgan. It’s too early to be listening to this song.” 

Haylen chuckled, “What if some of us like it, initiate?” 

The bickering pair looked up to a smiling scribe standing above them, holding out some sticks of bubblegum to share. As far as vices went, carrying bubblegum was an incredibly tame one for Haylen to have. Besides, the chewing helped her think, and sometimes she could use that little sugary boost. 

“Aw shucks. Why thank you, Haylen,” and with that, Morgan turned to Carter. “See, Diana? Haylen wants to listen to the tape, too.” 

The face that Carter made was priceless, and Haylen wondered if the woman was aware of how easy she was to read. It would definitely be in Carter’s best interest NOT to join any of the soldiers when they played poker. 

After a little bit more of Morgan’s prodding, Carter ended up giving in. “Alright. I’m only doing this because everyone is already awake,” she muttered. 

_ IT WAS AN ITSY-BITSY TEENY WEENIE YELLOW POLKA DOT BIKINI _

Carter was right, it was too early for this song, and the volume on Carter’s pip boy couldn’t go any lower. That didn’t stop an inebriated Initiate O’Connell from singing along to it, though, and soon Morgan was joining in. Then came Scribe Johnson and Knight Jackson, who was apparently recovered enough to sing along. 

Haylen looked over to Rhys shaking his head as he climbed from the guard post to swap duty with Knight Broussard. Broussard was the only new knight unassociated with last night's misfortunes, and had somehow managed to sleep through the commotion. Rhys was trying his best to look unamused, but he sat down beside Haylen anyway. All she had to do was look at him, and he cracked a grin. 

When the song came to an end, Lancer Morgan let out another one of his infectious laughs, and it soon spread around the campfire. Haylen couldn’t help but join in, these past two days had been nothing short of ridiculous and, well, they deserved to be laughed at. She would just have to count the whole experience as a team building exercise. 

When they’d quieted back down, Morgan piped up ready for more. “I think we need another song. Anybody have something else to listen to? _ Besides _that damn radio station.” 

He turned to wink at Carter, who had aired her grievances with Diamond City Radio earlier. “Well can any of you sing then? Lookin’ at you, Howe.” 

Howe looked at Morgan like he was an alien and shifted in his seat, not too keen on the idea of being singled out. That was going to be a pretty clear negative. 

Carter, in the meantime, had a misty look about her. Eyes glazed over with a slight, yearning smile on her lips –as though she were reliving a memory. Her faraway gaze shifted to Morgan, fog beginning to lift from her eyes. “I think I can help you with that, Ashton.” 

“Well alrighty then. Let’s hear what you’ve got, miss Diana.” 

_ Hold me close and hold me fast, this magic spell you’ve cast, it is la vie en rose _

“Maybe I should have her sing for Quinlan,” Haylen whispered to Rhys. Once, when she was just an initiate, she had tried to make her case to Proctor Quinlan for the preservation of some works of fiction and art. In her opinion, these were important in addition to historical literature and scientific knowledge. It was something a few other scribes had also tried before, and yet the man was staunch in his position. That garbage was not going to make it aboard his vessel. 

Haylen had always found this funny, considering the man’s affinity for Grognak comics. Who knows, maybe a few songs by the initiate could finally sway him. 

A contented silence fell upon the group as Carter finished her song, but rather than sitting back down with everyone, the woman was frozen in place and looking toward the station’s front door. _ Maybe she’s seeing ghosts again _, Haylen mused, and turned to see what had Carter’s attention. 

There, leaning in the doorway with arms crossed, a hulking figure was holding Carter’s gaze. 

“Just what the hell happened here while I was gone?” 

0545 hours. Their Paladin had returned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I should apologize for this silly and weird story arc. On one hand, I do want to tell some more serious stories in the future, but I just really wanted to put Rhys through some stupid shit while he was in charge. I wouldn't do it if it didn't serve a greater purpose. Plus it's not like weird shit doesn't happen in canon anyway (*ahem*motorcycle guy)
> 
> Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini by Brian Hyland was the most outrageous thing that I could come up with for a group of tired soldiers to be singing around a campfire to. La Vie en Rose is good stuff. There are several versions you can choose to listen to, though the most realistically canon is prooooooobably going to be the one done by Louis Armstrong. 
> 
> Shoutout to TombRomance for putting up with my shit. Pun absolutely 100% intended.
> 
> And if you've bothered to read this far, shoutout to you as well. You're breathtaking. This may be a long ride.


	4. Arrival

Danse was not a man so easily moved, but this - It was perhaps the most beautiful thing the Paladin had seen in his life. 

There in the twilight, stars peeking out in the veil between day and night, was a sight that reignited the fire of hope in the man. Moving in across the vast sky from the west came the Brotherhood of Steel airship, complete with full vertibird escort._ What an impressive display, _he mused. 

The Prydwen. Home. 

As the behemoth ship passed overhead, a crackle came in across the station’s radio. 

“This is Scabbard to Recon Squad Gladius. Do you copy? Over.” 

The man couldn’t help but grin as he pulled the mic in close to his lips. _At last._ “This is Paladin Danse of Reconnaissance Squad Gladius reporting. It’s good to hear you, Scabbard. Over.” 

“Glad to hear you, Paladin. Be advised, we have the _Retribution _on standby to dispatch to your location with reinforcements. Please confirm your location with signal grenade, over.” 

“That’s a copy, Scabbard. Over and out.” 

Danse gave the signal for his knight, Rhys, to toss the grenade out onto the police station’s roof. What he wouldn’t have given a few short weeks ago for a working vertibird. The team, _his _team, was practically running on fumes at that point. Misfortune after misfortune had befallen them and while they were doing their best to roll with the punches, they just didn’t have the manpower to keep holding on forever. 

And yet, here they were, or at least most of his small team. Rhys and Haylen stood in reverent silence beside him, taking in the scene. _They had made it._ It was only a shame that Carter was away on a retrieval mission rather than here to witness the Brotherhood in its full glory. Ah, well, no time to waste on sentimentality now. 

Not long after the device had been tossed, the promised vertibird had homed in on its signal and was whirring through the night sky._ Hmm, the Retribution? _ Danse thought, _ I’m not sure that I recognize the name of this one. _

He did, however, recognize the pilot’s name. Kells, the Lancer-Captain, had at first reluctant to take the youngster on because of his age, but did so at the insistence of Elder Maxson. It wasn’t long before Kells was singing the praises of the lancer in meetings long before Danse had left the Capital wasteland. In the years since, the kid had proven to be one of Kells’s best. 

“Lancer Morgan reportin’ for duty, sir. I’ve orders for you here from Elder Maxson to report to the command deck in the mornin’ once the Prydwen’s been secured at Boston Airport. My vertibird is now at your disposal, Paladin.” 

“Affirmative, lancer. Now, who are these other soldiers aboard your ‘bird?” 

One by one, Danse learned the names of the others newly assigned to his police station. Knights Howe and Rodriguez he’d recognized as long-time Brotherhood soldiers who had worked for a stint under Paladin Hoss. Knights Jackson and Broussard were new, at least to Danse. There was also Scribe Johnson and Initiate O’Connell. All in all, they looked to be a promising bunch, barring the fact that O’Connell smelled a bit like whiskey. 

“Alright, then, people. Take some time to familiarize yourselves with the station. Tomorrow morning, I want you all on sweep and retrieve at ArcJet – you can get the coordinates from Haylen. You’ll report back here to Knight Rhys and Scribe Haylen, assuming I haven’t returned to the station by that point. That being said, you’re all dismissed.” 

Satisfied with the orders he’d given, Danse then turned to Morgan. “Lancer, am I correct in understanding that you’re to be stationed here?” 

“Yes, sir, at least for the time bein’. Whatever it is you need, I’m your guy.” 

“Outstanding. If you don’t have any other orders from Kells, I’m sure the team could use your assistance at ArcJet tomorrow once you’ve delivered me to the Prydwen.” 

“I’m on it, sir.” 

Danse dismissed the young lancer with a nod, making note of the eagerness in the lancer’s voice. “Haylen, put out an APB to all brotherhood units to report back to the station. All units are to remain in close proximity until I return with our orders. And Rhys?” 

“Sir.” 

“You and Haylen are running the show until I get back. You may not be the most senior officer present, but you have more knowledge of the Commonwealth. I’m putting my full trust in you to make sure things are running smoothly. Think you can handle it?” 

“Yes, sir!” 

“Outstanding. You’re dismissed.” 

The following morning, Morgan had dispatched Danse to his location and had headed back in the direction of ArcJet. Meanwhile, meeting after meeting was slated for senior Brotherhood members. There were budget meetings, assignment briefings, promotions to discuss...all sorts of bureaucratic gobbledygook that was essential to keep things running smoothly. It was likely going to take all afternoon considering the sheer force that Elder Maxson had brought in from the Capital wasteland. 

It was late into the evening by the time everyone was dismissed and frankly, Danse couldn’t remember the last time he had sat in a chair for so long. Stranger to him was the realization that he’d spent nearly an entire day outside of his power armor. This was the longest he’d been out of his shell in the months since the reconnaissance mission had begun. 

He had left his armor in bay 1 at the insistence of Proctor Ingram, and had been reluctant to do so. It was now in the care of some very enthusiastic scribes –perhaps too enthusiastic- that were ordered to clean and tune it up. It was a task that he really preferred to do himself, but he hadn’t had the proper resources to keep it in peak condition for a couple of months. Maybe he should check on that armor of his, those scribes always tightened it too much... 

“Ah, Paladin Danse. Hold back a moment, would you?” 

Arthur Maxson was young, driven – a true force to be reckoned with. The man had a steel resolve and an icy gaze to match. It made sense that he was like that, though, considering that he’d taken up the mantle of Elder at the age of sixteen. The fears of those that were wary of his age subsided quickly, for the Brotherhood had begun to prosper again under his guidance. He was truly a legend in his own right, as much as he loathed some of the more overzealous idolization of him. 

“Yes, Elder?” 

Maxson relaxed his expression, if only slightly. “Congratulations on the immense success of your mission here in the Commonwealth. We truly are going to make a difference here, thanks to the efforts of you and your team.” 

“Thank you, Elder.” 

“You’ve earned the accolades, Paladin. I look forward to reading your full report. I did see in the notes that you have access to jail cells in the police station? They’re in good condition?” 

“Yes, Elder. The whole building was in sound condition when we came across it, including the cells.” 

“Good, we have a prisoner in need of transport to the facility, pending trial. Reports say he abandoned his unit in the line of duty while we were cleansing the airport scum last night. I’d like you to see to the task personally. Perhaps time in your company will..._i__nspire_ him to be a better soldier.” 

“Understood, sir. Did you have anything else for me?” 

“As a matter of fact, I do. Your reports mentioned an Initiate Carter that you wanted to sponsor. Is she here with you?” 

Carter still hadn’t reported back to the station when it was time for Danse to head to the Prydwen, so no, she wasn’t with him. No matter, now that he had finally been dismissed, Maxson had added orders for Danse to return to the Prydwen in a fortnight with her in tow. The dust still needed to settle at the airport, anyway. Only then would it be time for official promotions and formal inductions into the ranks for multiple new recruits, as well as several pending reassignments to be given after the small ceremony. 

After his dismissal, the paladin found himself wandering the decks of the airship. All was quiet with most of the soldiers now off in their bunks. His wandering lead him toward the other side of the ship, where he stopped near the quartermaster’s depot. He made a note to himself to drop back by before he left in the morning, partly to see what new armor mods that Teagan might have. He also wanted to get Carter a damned uniform – it was high time that she looked like she was part of the team. 

Danse continued on to the next room where the power armor stations were. He had been right; his armor was far too tight. With no scribes about at this hour, now would be a great time to adjust the armor himself, making sure it fit to his liking. He let his mind wander back to the police station as he worked, wondering how Rhys and Haylen were getting along. And Carter… 

If he were a betting man, he certainly wouldn’t have picked Diana Carter to be the type to show up and assist them with the ghoul horde a few weeks ago. Doe eyed vault dwellers were seldom the type to heed the call of duty, but there she’d been in her rifle wielding, molotov-throwing glory. He quietly chortled at the thought of her having to hold up her pants while she lobbed the cocktails at the ghouls. The sight was a bit chaotic, perhaps, but she turned out to be an asset to the team. 

While an enemy was on the business end of the barrel, the woman was a fighter. Hell, she even looked like she was born to mow down her adversaries. When her weapons were lowered, though, she was something else. For starters, she was agreeable, which was a welcome change from some of the other wastelanders the team had stumbled upon in their travels. Sometimes, she was even...otherworldly, for lack of a better term. Danse wouldn’t likely forget the strange conversation from their first meeting. 

_ “Thank you for the assist, civilian.” _

_ “Oh! Uh...you’re...you’re welcome. What were those things?” The woman poked the nearest ghoul with the end of her gun, as if to make certain it was truly dead. She lowered her rifle, not yet turning to meet his voice while she surveyed the area and made an effort to steady herself. _

_ “You’re telling me you’ve never seen a feral ghoul?” Danse sighed and shook his head, “they were human...once. Over time they’ve been marred by the radiation left behind in this God-forsaken wasteland. Now they’re just mindless monstrosities that need to be dispatched.” _

_ Finally satisfied that the ghouls were dead, Carter turned to see the man she was talking to. All she could manage was to stand there in stunned silence. _

_ “Civilian? Are you alright?” _

_ “I’m fine. It’s just...I’m so sorry. Have we met before?” _

Danse had no idea who or what he must have reminded her of, but the look she’d given him... She looked as though she’d been punched in the gut. 

The trek back to the police station the next day was met with little trouble for the paladin. With the weather so clear, he’d opted to rough it and hike the distance rather than taking a vertibird back. Besides, he had company. In addition to the prisoner that was now his ward, he was escorting Knight-Sergeant Walker to the station as well. Walker would be supervising operations in Cambridge and Danse was supposed to give him the lay of the land. Giving Walker a tour on foot could only prove to be beneficial. 

Their only hangup came in the form of a small band of raiders that were, frankly, high off their asses. Had the raiders been lucid, the fight might have been fairer to them. Then again maybe not; considering the fact that their meanest-looking groupie had chosen to rush the soldiers with a broken stick - _ and missed. _As much as Danse may have hated an unfair fight, he hated raiders more, and the lot had thrown the first punch...or stick. 

With that out of the way, they still weren’t horribly far from the station. A short respite would suffice after the raider attack. The trio could then utilize the nighttime cover to make it to the station by early morning, which Walker agreed was the best course of action – especially with one member of their group in shackles. 

The first hint of sunlight was barely visible in the sky when the three rounded the last corner towards Cambridge police station. Strange - what was that rubble piled to the side near the latrines? Or was it just one latrine? What the hell? 

The jail cells in the station were located in a room just near the garage entrance, so Danse opted to take his temporary companions in the back way. Dear God, what was that smell? It was enough for the man to almost feel bad for the prisoner having to be locked up in here. _ Almost _. Besides, the squad had already opened the windows to vent the room. 

Come to think of it, where the hell was his squad? They weren’t supposed to be leaving the area after they returned from ArcJet. 

“Safeties off, Walker. I’d like to sweep the area, just in case.” 

The pair crept through a couple of the back rooms while Danse tried to piece together what had gone on. The interior wasn’t in disarray, supplies were still stocked neatly...hmm. It also seemed as if most of the team’s personal effects were still here. Well, the place hadn’t been ransacked, anyway. 

Then, as they moved through the front room, Danse heard something coming from the outside of the station. He signaled for Walker to lower his weapon and inched closer towards the front door. Did he hear singing? 

He managed to open the large doors without alerting the soldiers that were huddled around a nearby campfire. Knight Broussard, who was up in the guard post, had moved to say something, but Danse gave the knight a brusque shake of his head to silence her. He opted, instead, to lean there against the doorway and observe for a few moments. 

There in the twilight, stars peeking out in the veil between night and day, was Carter – singing a song that Danse had never heard before. And when it was over, and her eyes lifted to meet Danse’s, she was frozen in place again. Once again, she looked just like she had been punched in the gut. 

“Just what the hell happened here while I was gone?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Everyone's favorite paladin!


	5. Cadence

“Sir!” came the chorus of ten voices in the courtyard. 

Before Paladin Danse could draw another breath, every person in the yard had scrambled to attention. Even Carter had managed to snap out of whatever the hell had her possessed. All eyes were forward, expressions blank, arms clasped behind their backs. 

_ Oh boy, here comes the thunder. We’re all screwed, _Morgan thought. Danse was a high-ranking officer, after all. In Morgan’s experience, those guys didn’t take anybody’s shit. 

The armored man strode forward, hands behind his back. Inspecting his men, maybe stalking his prey. Waiting for someone to flinch so that he could pounce. 

Except that, well...it turned out Danse wasn’t like that. The thunder that Morgan expected never came. Instead, the paladin stood before them with his arms folded across his chest, waiting patiently, not even looking angry. Mildly inconvenienced was more like it. 

“At ease, soldiers.” 

Rhys stepped forward immediately, prepared to shoulder the blame alone. 

“It’s my fault, sir.” 

“Explain yourself, knight. What happened to my station?” 

“I was hazing initiates,” Rhys replied, “I started it.” 

Now, Morgan was no scribe mathematician, but this didn’t quite add up to him. Sure, the guy was messin' with the new folks. That wasn’t anything new. Taking the blame for everything that happened after that? Naw. This was stupid, and those other knights knew better. Plus, it isn’t like anything really bad had happened. He wasn’t going to let Rhys go down alone. 

“With respect, sir, Rhys takin’ the blame for everything is dumber than a sack of tatoes.” 

The paladin raised his brow at the statement, and the knight was quick to fire back a bewildered look in Morgan’s direction. _Jesus, all I did was stick up for him. That guy needs to lighten up. _

“Go on, lancer.” 

“Look, all I'm sayin' is that yeah, Rhys was hazin’ the initiates, but he wasn’t hazin’ the whole team. Shoot, I’m the one that was buggin’ Carter.” 

“Morgan, the station was left in my charge. What angle are you trying to work here?” Right, Rhys was the suspicious type. Morgan had forgotten since he’d last worked with Rhys years ago, and had to fight not to roll his eyes at the accusation. 

“Ain’t tryin’ to work an angle, Knight. Just ownin’ up to my part in it.” 

Regardless of Rhys’s suspicions, what Morgan had said seemed to have struck a chord with the rest of the team. Howe stepped forward, ready to explain his part, and O’Connell had stepped forth as well. Soon everyone moved forward to stand by Rhys in solidarity. 

The paladin peered over the group, sizing everyone up. 

“While I admire everyone’s willingness to take accountability, I still haven’t been given a report. Haylen, if you don’t mind?” 

“Of course, sir.” 

So, Haylen brought the paladin up to speed and Danse just...listened. He only stopped to ask for clarification a couple of times before letting Haylen continue. 

By the end of the report, the paladin’s brows were furrowed and he had his head resting in his hand, though Morgan really didn’t blame the man for the headache he seemed to now have. After a moment he let out a sigh and scratched his head. 

“This is the single most boneheaded thing I’ve heard in a long time.” 

Well, it wasn’t like anyone could argue with that. 

“Alright, then. Get your packs on. We’re going for a run.” 

“That’s it?” someone behind the paladin replied, “you’re just going to make them run?” 

With the sudden arrival of their commanding officer, nobody had noticed that Danse had another person with him. _Well, if it __ain’t__ Walker_, Morgan noted. Someone else he recognized from his days as an initiate. Walker must have been promoted since the last time Morgan had seen him. 

“Tell me, Walker, what would you have done?” Danse asked the man, giving him a moment to come up with an answer. It almost looked like Walker might say something, but the Knight-Sergeant came up short. Satisfied with the lack of response, Danse continued, “they already cleaned up, and the three that ate the mole rat were already instructed to dig new latrines. If your punishment doesn’t fit the crime, you’re just going to breed contempt.” 

Walker seemed to be taking what Danse was saying into consideration before Danse went on, just to really drive home his point. 

“Despite only knowing each other for three days, they came together, _ as a team, _ to clean the mess. Despite only knowing each other for three days, they _ all _ stood together to bear the burden of responsibility when they could have left Rhys to the wolves. Walker, you’re going to want people that have each other’s backs. Even over monumentally stupid, inconsequential things.” 

Finally done addressing Walker, Danse turned back to his group of soldiers. This time, he did look a bit irritated. “What the hell are you all standing around for, didn't I tell you to go get your packs?” 

_ “Yes, sir!” _the group chimed, and scrambled into the police station. 

Now this was Morgan’s kind of punishment, if you could really call it that – a unit run down around Cambridge with weighted packs. He liked to do his own endurance training like this most mornings, anyway, usually alone before anyone else was up. Hey, you couldn’t be late for muster if you’re up before the lancer-captain, now, could ya? 

He stretched his legs while waiting for everyone else to get in formation, the only two left to join them were Carter and Danse, and he thought he’d save a spot for Diana. The paladin had held her back in the station for a moment, who knows what for. 

When she emerged from the inside, Morgan got it. The woman was practically beaming. It looked like the paladin had taken it upon himself to get the initiate a uniform while he was aboard the Prydwen, and damn if it didn’t suit her. It was nice to know that Danse gave a damn about those under his command. 

He gestured for Diana to join him in formation while they waited for Danse to come back outside and lead the run. 

“So, how are you likin’ the suit, miss Diana?” He sided up to her and nudged her in the ribs. She shook her head and laughed, doing a twirl for him like she was wearing some kinda ball gown. 

“What do you think, is orange my color?” she sighed and smiled, “God, it’s nice to have clothes that fit.” 

“Well, just about anything is better than those leathers you were in. Didn’t you say you were a vault dweller? Why not just wear your vault suit?” 

Diana’s face fell a little bit, and she bit her lip, while Haylen shot him a look from the row in front of them. _Mind your business,_ she seemed to say through her scowl. 

Just as Diana was about to answer him, Paladin Danse came to join the company from the garage area, sans power armor. Haylen and Rhys glanced at each other in mild surprise, and Carter tried her best to look unfazed. Morgan thought the lack of armor made perfect sense - Danse’d be leagues ahead of the rest of the company if he were the only one running in the stuff. 

“Alright, people, let’s move out. Walker, do you know the cadence?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Why don’t you lead it, these are going to be your people in a couple of weeks.” 

“Sounds good, Paladin,” Walker replied, beginning to run in place in order to set the pace. Soon, everyone else was keeping time with him, and off they went. 

“Al-right” 

“_Alright” _

_ “ _1-2-3-4-” 

“_1-2-3-4-” _

_ “ _I wanna be a Brotherhood lancer” 

“_I _ _ wanna _ _ be a Brotherhood lancer” _

_ “ _Mow down ugly ferals faster” 

“_Mow down ugly __ferals__ faster” _

Morgan had almost forgotten how much he liked a good company run. It had been a couple of weeks since the Elder had begun to mobilize his army and head for the Commonwealth, so the lancers were excused from most of the usual training yard stuff to do flight drills and extra maintenance on the vertibirds – y'know, make sure everything was in tip-top shape for the move and all. It was nice to feel a little bit of wind in his hair and keep time with the cadence for a change. 

Carter seemed to be having fun, too, at least with the callbacks. Morgan wondered what she had been about to say about her vault before Danse had joined the squad. Maybe she just didn’t like thinking about her vault days, lord knew Morgan didn’t exactly go around talking about his past. Telling folks about how raiders brutally murdered your parents didn’t exactly make for polite conversation. 

Well, shit. Now he felt kind of bad about it. Maybe her vault was overrun with scum or something and here he was asking about her suit and dredging up her problems, innocent as the question may have been. Most folks were just trying to move past their personal tragedies. And him? He’d move past his own problems as soon as he’d wiped out every raider in existence. That_ is_ what he’d named his vertibird for, after all. Oh, well. He’d just have to apologize later. 

The jog around Cambridge had been fairly short lived, Morgan guessed that they’d probably only done a mile or so. Enough to exercise without abandoning the station for too long. 

Once they were back in the yard, Walker dismissed them to rehydrate while he talked strategy with Danse on the station steps. Most of the crew gladly stripped their packs and collapsed back into their chairs in the courtyard to do so. Morgan had fetched his own canteen and planted himself back in his chair while Diana chatted away with Haylen next to him. He pulled out his combat knife, idly cleaning his nails with the tip while he figured out what he’d say to Diana. 

Before he got his chance to figure it out, Walker ordered the crew to pack it in and bring everything back inside before any storms could blow in. 

Morgan stood to fold up his chair and bring it back into the station, and grabbed Haylen’s chair from her with a grin and a wink. Well, he managed to catch her off guard and make her blush a bit this time, so he’d count it as a win for now. 

He ignored Rhys’s glower and turned back to Diana to get her chair, too. She swatted his hand away and put her hand on her hip, glint of mischief in her eye. 

“You’re shameless, aren’t you?” 

“Well, that’s what Proctor Ingram tells me,” he shrugged, “life’s too short to take_ everything_ seriously. Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours, I work almost as hard as I play.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Scout’s honor. I didn’t earn the title of _ Brotherhood’s youngest lancer _without having to jump through some hoops.” 

The woman squinted in disbelief. Of all of the things Morgan had said to her this past couple of days,_ that _was the thing that seemed to give her some pause. Damn, was it that hard to believe? 

“How old _are _you, Ashton?” 

“Twenty-one, miss Diana. Got my very own ‘bird just before I turned seventeen.” 

“Seventeen? God, you guys are all just babies...” 

Babies? Did she not hear the “twenty-one” part? And what was she, mid-to-late-twenties? He wasn’t dumb enough to ask that, though. 

Boy, if she thought that Morgan’s age was surprising, he couldn’t wait to see what she thought of her Elder. Though to be fair, Maxson’s beard and whiskey habit had aged him, if only by a couple of years. 

The two headed up the stairs, the last stragglers left outside. With Haylen and Rhys now inside the station, and Danse and Walker back to deliberating somewhere, he now had his chance. 

“Look, Diana. About earlier, before the run? I wasn’t trying to upset you or anything.” 

The disbelief she’d felt a moment before gave way to sincerity, and her expression softened. 

“You’re fine, Ashton. It was just a question. I just -” she paused, taking a breath and fighting her feelings, not sure just how much she was willing to disclose to some guy she’d only known for a couple of days. 

“You know, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” 

“I know, Ashton. I...” she sighed, “thanks.” 

“Well, still. Next time just tell me to mind my damn business.” 

“I can do that.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact about Morgan?  
His registration code/number thingy is MN-160L, after the AirBus H160-M copter that was developed for the French Armed Forces. Google it, yo. It's a sweet looking ride.  
I figure that there's probably nowhere in my story that I'm going to be disclosing people's registration codes, so like. Have a fun fact. I put a lot of love into the codes I've actually bothered to make.


	6. Float like a butterfly

“Carter, your posture is garbage.” 

Diana liked to think of herself as a fighter, though more in the metaphorical sense than the literal. Today’s training for the initiates included sparring, and man was she terrible. She tried to remedy the posture she'd just been chided for, but she was still standing there awkwardly – knobby knees like a newborn giraffe. Her attempt was nowhere near good enough for her sparring partner. 

“I’m sorry, Knight. I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

“You don’t say?” 

Knight Rhys rolled his eyes at her, and got out of his own fighting stance to give her a once-over. Out of habit, she began to straighten up to be inspected. Standing at attention was becoming second-nature at this point. 

“No, Carter. I need you to pose so that I can take a look.” 

Oh. Right. The knight circled around her, and Diana wasn’t sure if she had ever been scrutinized so closely in her life. 

“For starters, you need to position your feet properly. If you’re standing like that, you’re going to get knocked down before you even know what’s coming.” 

“Really?” 

The knight did a low sweep to prove his point and Carter fell on her behind, blinking rapidly in surprise. Message received, loud and clear. Rhys must be enjoying this. 

“Come on, get back up and get in position. I’m only going to knock you on your ass if you don’t pay attention.” 

Okay, then. She stood back up, arms in front of her body… 

“Christ, Carter, you can’t be locking your knees like that. And your feet need to be farther apart. Like this.” 

Rhys demonstrated what he meant, and she did her best to copy him, finally earning a nod of approval. Or the closest thing she was going to get to approval from Rhys, anyway. Either way, he was being surprisingly patient with her. She wondered if it was because Paladin Danse and Knight-Sergeant Walker were on the other side of the courtyard, supervising this morning’s training festivities. 

“Okay, now you need to engage your core – good. And bring your arms in a little closer. You’re leaving yourself wide open.” 

Rather than asking about it, she tried her best to do what he said, just in case he decided to sucker punch her this time. 

“Not quite. Hands closer to your face.” 

“Like this?” 

“Almost.” 

After barking out a few more commands to the initiate and tweaking her pose a bit more, he finally seemed sort of satisfied with his work. 

“Alright then, Carter, come at me.” 

Diana went for it, but Rhys was fast. Maybe even faster than a feral ghoul. She couldn’t land anything, but at least she was able to defend herself a little better from Rhys’s quick jabs. Getting frustrated, she decided that she was just going to put everything she had into a single strike – if she could just manage to take him down... 

She lunged, and he sidestepped effortlessly, even gracefully, while Diana got a face full of dirt. She groaned and rolled onto her back, coughing up some of the dust that she’d landed in. To her surprise, Rhys was already standing over her, holding out a hand to help her up. He was coughing, too, but only in a sorry attempt to cover up a laugh. 

“That was...” Rhys paused, reaching deep to find something positive to say to the initiate. He must not have reached too deep, because he had nothing. “That was pathetic.” 

It was pretty pathetic, she supposed. Now that she was back up on her feet, she dusted herself off and readied herself for a second round, and Rhys raised a brow at her. 

“You really ready to embarrass yourself again, Carter?” 

“Well, yeah,” she shrugged, “My brother taught me to get back up and try again.” 

Holy crap. Diana must be dreaming, because what she had just said seemed to genuinely impress the knight. He didn’t let it show for long though, quickly reverting to his usual impervious expression. 

“Your brother was a sensible man. Anyway, as much as I’d love the opportunity to knock you back in your place, we’ve got other work to do.” 

Diana hadn’t noticed that the other knights and initiates had gone back in for their assignment briefings, leaving Rhys and Carter alone in the yard. He paused just outside of the doors, glancing back at Carter. 

“Initiate?” 

“Yes?” 

“Report back out here to me at 0500 hours.” 

“Uh...knight?” she began, confused. 

Rhys sighed impatiently, and shifted back towards her. “Carter, you need all the help you can get. We’ve got to work on your fighting or else your ass is going to get killed by some prick in a bar fight. It sure as hell isn’t going to be _ my _fault if you can’t at least throw a punch. Now hurry up, Top’s waiting.” 

Yeah, Rhys was back to his irritable self. All in all though, he did make a pretty good teacher. She felt as though she’d actually made some progress in this morning’s short sparring session, even if the bar was set incredibly low considering where she had started off. As she jogged to catch up to the knight, she began to smile. She was going to get Rhys to tolerate her, maybe even like her. One of these days. 

Inside, Paladin Danse was waiting for her and Rhys was already at the paladin’s side, looking almost upbeat. 

“There you are, initiate. What do you say we go on a little field trip?” 

A field trip, huh? This would be the first time that Carter would be allowed to leave the station in days – she'd spent most of her time on guard duty since the Prydwen’s arrival. Danse hadn’t wanted her straying too far from the station, and most of the incoming assignments were located outside of Cambridge. Plus, her and O’Connell had training to do. 

“Sounds like fun, sir.” 

“Outstanding. You and Rhys supply yourselves; our target is Cambridge Polymer Labs – just a few blocks east of the station.” 

“Fantastic, sir. It should make for a lovely training exercise,” Rhys grinned. Sure, Diana had been stuck on guard duty for like 5 days, but Rhys had been in here since at least the ghoul attack. He must be stoked. 

_ Water, _ _ stimpaks _ _ , ammo – check. _

Diana was pretty sure she was ready to go. Danse had gone ahead to the side alley to wait for his little team, and Rhys was getting a combat armor chestpiece adjusted by Haylen. 

_ Ah, true love _. 

Maybe it was the childish remnants of an era long past, or just her way of coping with the trauma, but Diana did believe in the silly things like wishes on stars and true love. She observed the two interacting from across the room, trying to hide the gentle smile creeping across her face. The chemistry between the two was apparent in their banter and the easy smiles they always had for each other. 

They really were two peas in a pod, and the only people they were fooling was themselves. Haylen had basically even told her as much, that she’d admitted her feelings to Rhys and he had turned her down or something because he “only had room for the Brotherhood”. 

What a stupid excuse. Rhys was fucking stubborn, the damn fairy-tale-ruiner. 

Diana diverted her attention back to her supplies, you know, before she got caught creeping on the pair. It was always good to double check anyway. 

_ Water, _ _ stimpaks _ _ , ammo – check. _

Alright, well, “better not keep Danse waiting”. Time to head out. She opted to go out through the garage and further downplay her nosiness, passing the holding cells on the way. 

Hold on, what? 

Diana leaned backwards and peered into the jailroom, where whoever was guarding this dude had apparently abandoned him for a smoke break. The prisoner, obviously not an observant fellow, hadn’t noticed her pass by, because he had gotten his paws on a bobby pin and was trying to bust out. 

“Uh, can I _ help _you, guy?” she asked, trying her damnedest to sound incredulous. Confrontation wasn’t her strong suit. 

She lifted her rifle, pointing it at the prisoner while he froze in place. He was too scared to even remove the pin from the lock and cover up what he was doing. 

“Augh, the fuck you on about, Carter?” asked O’Connell, stumbling in from the garage with his head in his hand. 

“Hey are you okay?” she asked, before being assaulted by the stench of alcohol and..._ something. _ “Are you _ drunk, _initiate?” 

“Who wants to know, _ initiate?” _the man sneered back. 

Oh crap. She hadn’t meant to start anything, and had been genuinely concerned since O’Connell looked pretty wrecked, but she’d definitely pissed the dude off. It probably wasn’t wise to call Rian O’Connell by his rank, especially since she was just an initiate, too. 

“Hey, I’m sorry, Rian. I caught this guy trying to break out, who’s on watch?” 

“_ Sorry my _ _ arse _ _ , _Carter! I’m the one on watch! You implyin’ that I can’t do my job?” 

This was not at all how this was supposed to go, and Diana’s heart was beginning to pound in her chest. What on earth was O’Connell on? It was a pretty open secret that the man drank a fair amount, but he was never out of control. He was generally agreeable and even kind to Diana. 

There was no way. This had to be chems, Diana was almost certain of it. 

Before it could escalate further, Rhys stepped in to mediate, looking pissed off. 

“Jesus, O’Connell, you take a bath in vodka or something? Get out of here.” 

“I don’t report to you, Knight,” he spat back at Rhys. Quite literally, too, because there was now a glob of spit on Rhys’s boot. How Rhys was keeping his cool was well beyond Diana, she’d just assumed that Rhys was a “punch first ask for forgiveness later” kinda guy, especially since O’Connell had his own fists up, ready to fight. Jesus Christ. 

“Do I need to lock your ass up with that guy?” Rhys countered. 

The altercation was drawing a crowd, now. Haylen had been observing from far back the entire time, but now Morgan had made his way in from the roof, and an impatient looking Walker had just entered the room behind. 

O’Connell either didn’t notice or didn’t care, because he threw himself at Rhys, who executed another flawless sidestep. This made O’Connell angrier, and he whipped around to go for Diana. 

“ENOUGH. Morgan, help me out here.” 

Knight-Sergeant Walker motioned for Morgan to help him restrain the initiate, debating whether to throw him in the open cell. Rhys scoffed, turning on his heel to head out for his mission. 

“Walker, sir. If I may?” 

Walker narrowed his eyes, clearly very done with the whole situation, but allowed Carter to continue. 

“Yes, initiate?” 

“I’m not really sure, but I think you should search Rian for chems.” 

Walker nodded, taking Diana’s assessment into consideration. Diana thought that O’Connell had been pissed off before, but now he was damn near rabid. He pitched himself toward Diana, eyes wild with fear and rage, Walker and Morgan struggling to contain him. 

With that reaction, she was almost certainly right. 

“Come on, Carter. Danse is still waiting.” 

Right. As her and Rhys headed toward the garage, a desperate O’Connell decided he would try to get the last word in. 

“Right, Rhys. Keep walkin. Run on off to daddy Danse with the station whore.” 

_ Well that was rude. _

If provocation was O’Connell’s goal, well, it worked. Rhys whipped around to face the guy, and although Rhys was fast, he was not fast enough. 

Morgan had already let go of the initiate, opting for a knockout punch to O’Connell’s jaw instead of struggling to contain him anymore. O’Connell dropped to the ground while Morgan casually withdrew a cleaning rag from his pocket and wiped his hand with it. 

Walker, an apparent stickler for due process, opened his mouth to chastise Morgan’s decisive action, but Morgan just rolled his eyes, not really caring about Walker’s authority. 

“You just gonna let the junkie attack the whole station, Walker? I ain’t got patience for this kinda bullshit. Now let's search the guy while he’s still out.” 

With the situation now resolved, they really did need to get back to Paladin Danse. Diana and Rhys left the scene one last time, finally crossing the threshold into the garage without any further incident. The past fifteen minutes had felt like hours to her, and she still had a little bit of adrenaline coursing through her veins from the unwanted confrontation. She halted in her tracks at the garage’s outer door. 

“What’s the holdup, Carter?” 

_ Come on, Diana, fight it. _

No, she couldn’t. She reached for her pockets one final time. 

_ Water, _ _ stimpaks _ _ , ammo – check. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what I wanted to write?  
I wanted to write fluff, because I'm getting impatient with myself.  
But what was it that I wrote?
> 
> Carter being shit at fighting, and Rhys being good at fighting.  
And I'm ahead of schedule, so you can have an early update.
> 
> Honestly though, I could see Rhys being pretty frickin' handy in a fist fight. I mean yeah I wouldn't want to get in a bar fight with ANY of the Brotherhood, but something about Rhys just screams "competitive fighter" to me.  
Anyway, enjoy having that personal headcanon shoved down your throat.


	7. Critical Thinking

When Rhys and Carter rounded the last corner in the back alley, they found that Scribe Haylen had already slipped out and beat them to the rendezvous point. She looked like she was covering for them, filling the paladin in on the events that had occurred inside. 

Rhys had to fight not to smile. The girl always had his back, and he had no idea what he’d ever done to deserve her loyalty. 

He stood at attention alongside Carter, waiting for the paladin to finish speaking with Haylen. 

“I appreciate the update, Haylen. Keep close watch on O’Connell in there, I’d like a full report back on what Morgan and Walker find. There’s no telling what kind of junk he’s got in his system or where he got it from.” 

“Affirmative, sir.” 

“Alright then, dismissed.” 

Haylen nodded at Danse, and winked at Carter and Rhys as she passed them on her way back in. 

“Good luck, Knight. Initiate.” 

Oh yeah, he didn’t deserve her as a friend, and he _ definitely _didn’t deserve sly winks. 

“Well then, soldiers, are you ready to begin our mission?” asked Danse. 

“Ready, sir!” the pair chimed back. God, Carter certainly sounded chipper. Maybe Rhys should just be glad that she was ready to follow orders. If anyone asked, he wasn’t going to admit that he previously thought O’Connell was going to turn out to be the better soldier. _ Ugh, insubordinate sack of... _

Rhys looked down at his boot. 

_ Spit. _

“Carter, I’d like you to take point on this one. Your previous instincts seemed to be right on point, and I want to see how you handle working with a team.” 

_ Fucking WHAT. _

Rhys had to reign it in. Way the hell in. If he’d been drinking water, he would have choked at what he had just heard. The training he had been doing with Carter not an hour ago was still fresh in his mind, and he hadn’t forgotten how she’d bitten it trying to charge him. 

Welp, they were going to die. Rhys suppressed a groan. 

Still. _ Give way your suspicions to the wisdom...blah blah blah _. The passage from the Codex was about trusting your Elder, but it had to apply to your commanding officer too, probably. Whatever. He might not trust Carter’s instincts, but he sure as hell trusted Danse’s. 

Speaking of, Danse was standing there, eyebrow cocked in amusement at Rhys. 

“Have you resolved whatever internal struggle you were going through, Knight?” 

Damn, Top knew him well. 

“What internal struggle, sir?” 

Danse huffed in mild amusement at the question. Rhys was Brotherhood through and through after all - Danse knew Rhys wasn’t actually going to question his orders, and let it go. 

Over time, something the knight _ had _ forgotten was how close this place was to the police station. They hadn’t been out 10 minutes before they were standing at the doorstep. Haylen had wanted to check this place out ages ago, thinking the name sounded promising. Not too long after they’d discovered it, that crackpot eyebot had passed by the station one day offering “career opportunities” at the place, only fueling Haylen’s curiosity. They’d never had the time, though. 

That roaming eyebot could have meant either of two things – that it was filled with robots and tech, or it was bait from uncharacteristically smart raiders. Either way, Rhys was cool with it, but he kind of wished Haylen got to explore it, too, instead of having to play nurse for a dumbass. 

Carter halted their tour, doing a quick inspection of the surrounding area. 

“What’s your assessment, Carter?” Danse asked the woman. 

Once, Rhys had seen her step on a land mine and panic from the top of the station barricade, damn near tripping over her own feet trying to run away from the danger. He wasn’t sure if he trusted whatever was about to leave her mouth. 

“Well...it doesn’t appear to be trapped.” She peered in through one of the un-boarded windows, wiping some of the grime off of the panes. “The inside looks clear. We go in the front?” she asked Danse hesitantly, having to look up to speak to the paladin towering over her. 

“You need to trust your instincts, Carter. If you go into an op without confidence in your own plan, you could jeopardize your team. Always be decisive in your actions.” 

Yeah, sounds about right. Danse could make a soldier out of pretty much anyone with those nuggets of wisdom. 

“Yes, sir. Well, then, we’re going in the front.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Carter, I don’t take orders from robots.” 

The trio had indeed gone in the front doors and been greeted by some sort of delusional, malfunctioning, off-it's-rocker Miss Nanny bot. Damn thing had hired them on the spot because it was short staffed or something, but not before interviewing each of them. Whatever the hell kind of person let a robot do the hiring was a nutjob, even if it was 200 years ago. 

Carter had rolled with it when the robot asked if she’d ever worked with polymer synthesis, and been hired as a researcher – no other questions asked. Danse had told the robot that it sounded like it needed them, and was assigned a career as a lab assistant. Rhys did not have the patience for this, and asked what the hell the robot was talking about. 

The bot was now holding out a mop and a maintenance jumpsuit for him to take. 

Maybe it was okay that Haylen wasn’t here. 

“Rhys just roll with it.” 

“What, so I can look like an egghead like you do? _ I don’t take orders from bots. _” 

Carter, now outfitted with a lab coat over her jumpsuit, jerked her head toward a skeleton sitting at the reception desk. “You know, that robot knows more about this place than the secretary over there.” 

Goddamnit, it bugged that she had a point. 

“I’m not wearing the coveralls.” 

The robot paused its floating tour of the facility and craned one of its optical sensors back towards the knight. Rhys didn’t make a habit of hanging out with Mr. Gutsies, and having one of those things swivel abruptly and focus its sensors so close to your face was a little jarring. 

“Please note that employee enthusiasm is factored into your yearly reviews.” 

Was that bot_ squinting _ at him? _ Ugh. _Rhys couldn’t figure out why the statement annoyed him so much. Perhaps it was the implication that Rhys would be bad at the job, while he was decidedly NOT bad at his real job. 

The nanny robot ushered them into a pretty shabby looking clean room, sealing the door behind them. Before they could continue through to the lab, the robot stopped in front of the clean room window to start the sprinklers. 

“I have been instructed to inform you that Doctor Elwood has issued mandatory overtime due to uncompleted milestones...” 

_ Crazy fucking robot. _

_ “... _Consequently, the staff will not be allowed to leave until the Piezonucleic Lining Project has been completed.” 

Carter whipped around to look back at the robot through the window, eyes wide. 

“Wait, what?” The robot hit the button to start the decontamination sequence. Hey, this goop kind of stung, was the decontaminant contaminated? Rhys wasn’t the only one itching from the stuff, and Danse muttered something about rusting out his power armor, so it was out of the clean room and into the lab for them. 

This lab looked like shit. No wonder that bot was so desperate to hire a crew - two centuries was a long time to be trying to rope some suckers into a job, especially if the scientists had bought it shortly after the bombs dropped. Rhys’d figured there’d be some robot drones doing some work inside, or at least a Mr. Handy unit dusting or something. 

As far as he could tell, all that was in here were skeletons and microscopes. Maybe a couple of terminals. 

“So, we still rolling with it, _ initiate _?” Rhys asked, making sure the emphasis fell sharply on the rank. 

Miss “researcher” furrowed her brow and fixed her gaze on the old tiles, arms clasped behind her back again. Was she steeling herself for a dress-down? Rhys didn’t get why the hell that was her knee-jerk reaction to his comment and _ why the hell she looked so defiant _if she expected to get yelled at. 

God she was infuriating, between picking fights she couldn’t finish and getting them locked in the building. She deserved the jab far as he was concerned, this chick was not cut out for the Brotherhood of Steel. If she quit then he didn’t give a molerat’s ass. 

_ She’s good enough for Haylen... _

Rhys felt the tiniest twinge of guilt. She was only trying to do her duty when she caught the prisoner trying to break out, not her fault that O’Connell had turned into a loose cannon. Then there was the other day... Morgan hadn’t been the only one that stuck up for his sorry ass. The whole crew did, Carter included. 

No – he _ guessed _ she didn’t deserve a reprimand. What’d Danse say the other day about punishment and stuff? Something about contempt; the gist of it was that you weren’t supposed to be a jackass or a tyrant unless the squad deserved it. 

Meanwhile, Danse was observing them both, watching them think through the situation. Waiting for them to interact. 

Waiting for them to...? 

That’s when it all clicked into place for Rhys that holy shit – this was a test. This whole thing. The two that he’d chosen for the op, the location close to the station, the fact that they were sparring partners earlier when Rhys was well out of her league...damnit even putting Carter in charge here. Danse knew Rhys didn’t trust her. 

God, here Danse was being patient with Carter and trying to _ build up her confidence _ while Rhys was busy knocking her down like a pile of blocks. And he’d been doing it since day one – she'd stuck by the team for this long, hadn’t she? He was going to have to disregard his own biases, and he _ was _biased. He didn’t even know half of the guys that had rolled in on the vertibird, and yet he’d trusted every single one of them immediately, unquestioningly, just because they’d arrived in orange suits. 

The twinge of guilt turned into a bucket of it, thanks to Haylen’s voice nagging him in the back of his mind. _ Trust in the wisdom... _

He was being a jackass, and he may as well have been kicking a squire around considering Carter’s...well, being so new to the apocalypse. 

“It’s your call, Carter, but...if I may?” The knight said, this time blunting the edge in his voice no matter how hard he had to grimace through it. She lifted her gaze from the floor, confused by the courtesy, but no longer braced for a reprimand. 

“Yes?” 

“If I’m not mistaken, that bot mentioned Liberty Prime during that orientation snoozefest. He hasn’t said anything, but I’m pretty sure Top’s just about dying to dig through this place. So, I’ll ask again. We still rolling with it?” 

The gesture earned him a nod of approval from the paladin. Danse was going to sponsor her, right? That was some high fucking praise, considering the dude’s influence. Rhys’d be damned if he knew what Top saw in her, but hell. Maybe it was time that Rhys found out, or at least cut her some slack. I mean come on, she’d lit up like a puppy with a tennis ball and all he did was be nice to her – no, _ tolerate _her - for two seconds. 

“You bet your ass we’re still rolling with it, knight.” 

“Carter,” Danse warned, presumably for her lack of decorum. Rhys didn’t necessarily mind, the quip almost humanized her in his eyes. 

“My apologies, sir.” Regardless of the reprimand, the damn woman still had a smirk on her face when she glanced back over at Rhys. 

Well, she had a little bit of spunk, anyway. She’d already proven that earlier when they were sparring - she’d dusted herself off and gotten back up, after all. Rhys could begrudgingly accept that. He stood back next to his paladin while she bounced off into the room, already humming some song while clacking away at terminal keys. 

“Sir?” 

“So, you figure it out, Rhys?” 

“What, the test? Yeah...” 

“And?” 

“That’s why you’re the Paladin, sir. _ Give way your suspicions to the wisdom of thine... _ uh, you. You’re just trying to mold minds or whatever it is that you do. Strengthen the team, make us both better soldiers...” Rhys let himself trail off while Carter did a triumphant fist-pump in the background. “ _ I’m in!” _

What a dweeb. 

“Sir... why did you let me kick a puppy for a month?” 

It was a rare sight, increasingly so since Gladius had been fighting their way through the Commonwealth, but Rhys could swear that Danse had an _ I-told-you-so _ smirk across his own face, glancing sideways at Rhys. It softened when he shifted his focus back to Carter. 

“She can take it, Rhys.” 

Oh, God. Top was _ fond of _the dweeb. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rhys has no little angel and little devil sitting on his shoulders when he's in thought.  
He has a grumpy ass little Rhys with his arms crossed and a little Haylen that calls him a jackass when he gets an attitude.
> 
> P.S.  
Danse failed the charisma check!


	8. Trust Fall

“_I__t’s nothing I can’t handle.” _

_ “Well, if you could, you’d be the first.” _

A month ago, now, Danse had overheard his field scribe checking up on Carter after Rhys brushed her off, and her answer to Haylen was enough to convince him that she was capable of making it far with the Brotherhood, if she wanted to. Determination is a hell of a thing to have on your side. 

As for why he'd let Rhys “kick a puppy"? Carter was a blade that needed to be tempered, and it was better for her to be put through the wringer by Rhys than it was for her to trust the wrong person on the outside and end up enslaved, or dead, or...well. There were some memories that Danse preferred not to dwell on, not right now. 

In the next room, Carter was leaning over the first intact terminal she’d come across, poring through old messages left by dead scientists. Danse would have let curiosity get the best of him had he not been in power armor, but he showed some restraint. It might be off-putting for Carter if a 7.5-foot-tall hunk of metal were looming over her shoulder. 

“Sir, I think you should see this.” 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so strange for Carter, after all, and he strode into the ancient lab. Even when she scooted over so he could lean in close, he had to kneel down to get a good look at the screen. You may be able to take on the world while you’re wearing power armor, but it was at the cost of some dexterity. Carter was going to have to scroll through the document for him. 

“Fascinating,” the man murmured; more to himself than the rest of his squad. The project, it seemed, involved power armor and had been nearly completed before the scientists had perished. The scientists died in vain, though, and never got the promised escort from the armed forces. What a terrible way to die - locked away in a cage like animals, unaware that the world outside was on fire. 

“Carter, your thoughts?” 

“We may as well finish the project, sir, it looks like the information might be useful to our cause. The Brotherhood is all about preserving technology, right? It shouldn’t take long.” 

“Good, you’ve been paying attention. They were modifying power armor, which, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, we use pretty extensively. If we happen to find anything regarding Liberty Prime, it’s an added bonus.” 

“Liberty Prime, sir?” 

“Now isn’t the time for a Brotherhood history lesson. Ask me again after we get out of here.” 

“Yes, sir,” she replied, eyes still glued to the screen. “Hey, Rhys, do you see any samples laying around?” 

“Do I look like an egghead, Carter?” 

“No...” 

The knight squinted at the initiate, choosing his next words carefully. It went against Rhys’s nature to be patient, but he would be a better soldier for it if he could learn to hold his tongue occasionally. You couldn’t get too far on skill alone, but Danse could see no reason why Rhys couldn’t be a paladin someday, too. That made two blades for Danse to work with - Carter to temper, and Rhys to hone. 

“What am I looking for, Carter? I’m just the janitor, remember?” 

“Right. We need to find...” she trailed off, searching through the document again, “Lithium hydride and gold samples. I don’t know what they’d be in, though. We should do a sweep.” 

The room led out into a large atrium, partially caved in from the centuries of decay. The majority of the structure looked as though it were still stable, aside from one pathway that had crumbled to the floor below. Hopefully they wouldn’t need to enter that section of the lab, though missions rarely ran that smoothly. 

The building was eerily quiet – too quiet for Danse’s liking. Something just didn’t feel right in the open air of the atrium, even if the laboratory had been sealed off for two centuries. 

Carter seemed to have the same feeling about the place given that she’d just halted and flicked the safety off on her own weapon. He noticed her make a quick pat to the kit that she kept her ammunition and stims in. If she was giving way to her compulsions, she was definitely feeling unsettled. 

“What’s the patdown all about, Carter?” 

“Shh.” 

“Just because you’re calling the shots -” 

“_SHH.” _

_ Trust her, Rhys, _the paladin willed. She hadn’t been shushing him out of disrespect, after all. Danse couldn’t place it, but something was _off. _

From behind one of the piles of rubble, a feral ghoul lunged in the direction of their noise. Rhys avoided the attack while Carter bashed the ghoul with the stock of her rifle. Another pack of the grotesque freaks poked their heads out from various points within the lab, homing in on the death shriek of the one now laying at Rhys’s feet. 

Before Rhys could even draw his own weapon, Carter had picked one more off in the distance and had another in her sights. This was the same laser focus he’d taken note of at ArcJet, and now Rhys was going to get to witness it, too. 

The difference between Institute synths and feral ghouls was, unfortunately, the fact that ferals didn’t maintain any sort of distance. Once they were on their feet, they were careening toward the team in an unsightly, disjointed mass. 

“Send them back to hell!” Danse roared, stomping the head of one of the monsters underneath his oversized boot with a squelch. There were too many rushing them to make time for accuracy, putting Carter at a disadvantage. Time to hip-fire and make up for the difference by slowing them down. 

“Carter, take cover,” Rhys instructed, knocking a table to its side so she could aim from behind. He had, in fact, noticed her propensity for marksmanship, and the two swapped places in one fluid motion. What skills Carter lacked in close quarters combat, Rhys more than made up for in brute force. With their differences set aside the cogs had clicked into place, and watching them work together was almost like watching a ballet. 

With Danse slowing the ghouls down, Carter picking them off, and Rhys mowing down the stragglers, the fight lasted only a few moments. They were in luck with the laboratory sealed off – it meant far fewer ghouls to deal with. Regardless, there was a beauty to the team’s tactical efficiency that Danse could only be grateful for at this point, and it was relieving that those two could be counted on to work together in future missions. 

It took her a minute, but once Carter had finally let go of her anxiety in the aftermath, she looked fired up – grinning from ear to ear when Danse offered a hand to get up. He had to grin back. 

“Gives you a rush, doesn’t it?” 

“Yeah, it really does. Sir, you’re not an adrenaline junkie, are you?” 

Was she teasing him? He let out a chuckle. “I wouldn’t say that, but the combat’s the part of the job that I love.” 

On the other side of Carter’s table, Rhys let out a puff of air and stretched his back out, clearly delaying whatever he intended to say. He looked as though he was going to let go of whatever thought had crossed his mind, but ultimately decided to speak his mind. 

“Carter, you did alright.” 

The statement was likely the closest thing that Carter would ever get to a compliment from Rhys unless, by some miracle, she became Elder. It must have damn near killed him to say it, and Carter looked like she was just about to fall over in shock. 

“Wow, Rhys. I don’t know what to say. Thank you.” 

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.” 

With the batch of ghouls now put down and out of their way, they managed to pick through the rubble and gather the reagents in no time. There wasn’t a whole lot left in the lab that hadn’t been made up of organic matter and decayed, so it was fairly easy to identify the gleaming cylindrical containers that the reagents were in, and now they had an assortment. 

All they had to do was identify the reagents, and thankfully, the machine had a scanner equipped. 

“So, we just pop ‘em in and scan ‘em? Easy,” remarked the knight. 

Danse loaded the first two in while Rhys ran the scan, machine humming to life. It was a bit sluggish on the uptake after being unused for so long, but after a few beeps of protest, the results were in: 

“Reagent number 413: Gallium. Reagent number 65: Tungsten.” 

Carter dutifully took down notes on the clipboard provided to her while Rhys rattled off the results. Three more samples to go. Danse was feeling lucky, confidently popping two more into the scanner. Statistically speaking, at least one of these had to be right. 

“Reagent number 3111: Lithium Hydride” 

_ Outstanding. _

“Reagent number 49: Cobalt.” 

No matter, only one more left to scan. It had to be the gold. 

“Reagent number 11317: Hydrochloric acid.” 

_ Damnit _. That meant they were missing something, and that Danse had been right when they first entered the atrium: ops seldom run this smoothly. They were going to have to figure out how to get into the locked off room with the crumbled walkway that he’d noticed earlier, that and the nuclear containment room were the only two rooms they hadn’t cleared. 

Well, they still had to get the isotope anyway. 

Carter had already taken it upon herself to revisit the terminal for clues. According to the internal mail relay, the scientists had started to become desperate toward the end. One of them had locked themselves away in their lab, causing the chaos and the infighting. Another terminal entry mentioned a group trying to force their way into the locked off room through a crawl space. It was worth investigating. 

The crawl space turned out to be enormous, most of the way through at least. The old scientists had managed to breach the lab, but it appeared that the man sealed inside must have been dangerous. A woman’s skeleton still clung to an air duct above the breach, frozen in time trying to claw her way back out. The scene painted a picture in the paladin’s mind like so many he’d come across in his travels before. 

The desperation, the hopelessness, the paranoia...and Danse being blessed with knowledge that those that came before didn't have: that there was nothing left for them to escape to, that they’d been confined for their own safety even though the director had no business making a call like that. It was all very sobering. 

What had happened here to all of these people...they didn’t deserve to die. They didn’t deserve to be turned to monsters by radiation, to be locked in and driven into madness. It only affirmed Danse’s belief that science didn’t belong in the private sector, not without someone to question their ethics. Not that it mattered, considering that some of these places were conducting experiments that were sanctioned by the government, anyway. Vault-tec was a prime example of that corruption. 

Ancient civilization was, well, fucked up for lack of a more appropriate term. Keeping things like this from happening again was one of the biggest reasons he believed in the Brotherhood. 

With the impromptu moment of silence concluded, Carter, being the smallest of the three, volunteered to squeeze through the hole and into the space below. He likely couldn’t fit through, at least not comfortably, but listened at the top of the entrance anyway. The drop was only a couple of feet once she’d lowered herself, and she hit the floor with a soft_ thud. _He waited – no other noises. 

No surprise feral attacks. Good. He continued to wait until he could hear the clickity clack of Carter looking through yet another terminal for answers before retreating back to the atrium, though the sound of an explosion prompted him and Rhys to double-time it. 

Carter was already waiting in the doorway of the now-unlocked room with reagent and something else - holotape? - in hand. Smoke was clearing from the area and revealed another chunk of the walkway now missing from the blow. 

“You had to blast your way out?” 

She shook her head, “booby trap.” 

Well, that wasn’t surprising. She motioned for Rhys to come closer so she could toss the materials to him before sitting down on the edge of the broken floor, looking unsure about the drop to the lower level. It wasn’t far enough to kill her or anything drastic, but it could certainly hurt her if she didn’t land right. He could probably catch her, though. 

“Here, Carter, jump down to me.” 

“Hmm?” 

“Look, it’s either a five-foot drop to me or a twelve-foot drop to the ground. You never have to fall...” 

“With the Brotherhood at your back. I didn’t think you meant literally, sir.” 

_ Wise-ass._

_ “ _Would you prefer to test Rhys’s catching capabilities? He isn’t equipped with power armor, and he probably wouldn’t hesitate to let you break a leg...” 

He could be a wise-ass, too, if prompted. Carter still didn’t look too sure, but preferred the odds of Danse catching her to those of her not getting maimed in the drop. 

“Pinky swear you’ll catch me?” 

“Carter, what on Earth is a – “ 

She dropped before he could finish the question, and he caught her like it was nothing. Ah, the magic of Brotherhood-engineered power armor. 

“Pinky swear?” he finished, placing her on the ground. She flushed a bit at the question, no longer looking him in the eye. 

“It’s nothing. It’s…” she sighed, and held her pinky out to him, almost reluctant to answer the question. “You take your pinky, like me.” 

If he looked puzzled it was unintentional, and her cheeks flushed again. He repeated her gesture nonetheless. 

“Right. And then you hook your pinkies together, like this.” 

Her pinky entwined with his was comically small while he was wearing power armor. With Carter, you just roll with it, and if he was going to be sponsoring her he wanted to understand how her mind worked - the same way he understood Rhys and Haylen and their quirks. 

“I don’t understand.” 

“It’s just a thing you do when you make a promise that you aren’t supposed to break.” 

“So, like the Brotherhood’s oath?” 

“Well, kind of. It’s not as serious as that, though. It’s childish.” 

It may be childish, but it was one of the few remnants that came from Carter’s previous life, and it wouldn’t hurt to humor her. 

“Pinky swear it is, then. Let’s finish this thing.” 

They had one more ghoul fight in store for them. A glowing one. 

Another unfortunate soul had been locked in the irradiated room with the isotope and turned green at some point thanks to the much higher concentration of radiation. And glowing ones – they possessed some sort of voodoo power that allowed them to raise the dead. 

It was the same fight, just a rinse and repeat. A fair amount of the earlier ghouls had been thoroughly put down, like the one that whose skull Danse stomped in. The primary objective was to put down the glowing one and get the heck out of there, and they completed it with relative ease, though a dose of RadAway from Haylen wouldn’t hurt when they got back. 

The last reagent had been loaded, the isotope placed... 

And out came the newly cooked chestpiece, complete with lining and everything. While an afternoon spent doing a science experiment wasn’t generally Danse’s idea of "productive", he had to admit that the results were worth it. If they got a team of scribes in here, the whole Brotherhood could benefit from their field trip.

“You know, Carter, you wouldn’t make a bad scribe.” She had options, after all. She could be a scribe, a lancer...perhaps not a lancer, but that wasn’t for Danse to decide. 

“Thank you, sir, but I think I prefer being out here. What’s the term? Boots...” 

“Boots on the ground?” 

“Yes, sir. There’s a lot to see out there.” 

_Attagirl, Carter. _He felt a hint of pride knowing that her training would be put to good use.

After one more trek through the decontamination chamber, they would be home free. The trio avoided the mist to the best of their ability, but it was an impossible task. This stuff was certainly irradiated, and Rhys was obviously itchy from the exposure. The liquid had soaked through Danse’s hood and he couldn’t take the irritation from the soaked fabric rubbing up against the back of his neck anymore - his hood needed to come off. 

“Oh my God.” 

The hitched breath and statement coming from behind was just above a whisper, not really meant to be vocalized judging by the way Carter’s hand flew to her mouth when he and Rhys turned around to look at her. What a strange thing to say, the radiation must have addled her brain. 

“Everything alright, initiate?” 

She gave him a weak nod, but looked...dizzy, maybe. They definitely needed to get her back to Haylen. 

“Let’s get out of here, then.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a long boi, with a lot of commas. My entire life is pretty much a run on sentence though, so like, sorry yo. I'm tryin'.  
I'm also tryin' when it comes to the weird spacing that sometimes happens when you copy/paste your work from word.
> 
> I always feel like I have a lot of ground to cover by the time a Danse POV rolls around, but I had to get it done because we've still left O'Connell back in a cell and we gotta deal with THAT drama.
> 
> Also, I had to write Carter in the end reacting to the hair, because I'm pretty sure the community as a whole got flustered when they discovered that the hood comes off.  
Angels wept that day.  
Danse is clueless though, so he didn't notice the angels weeping. Sweet clueless bb.


	9. Rumble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this is honestly pretty tame, but warning anyway:  
There's mention of chems, murder, and a couple of raiders imply things of a sexual nature, and Morgan is only 14.

“Well, there we are. Good mornin' sleeping beauty. You enjoy bein' knocked out cold?”

“The fuck you want, Morgan? Where’s Walker?”

Ashton scoffed at the initiate's insolence. He had knocked O’Connell’s ass out and he was still brave enough to be mouthing off. Not a quick learner, he guessed, though havin’ them holding cell bars between ‘em could sure make a fella feel safe enough for backtalk. Dumb move, considering that Ashton wasn’t above fighting dirty. 

“Walker’s gone ahead to make sure you ain’t got a stash somewhere, initiate,” he spat, “So why don’t you tell me where you got the chems, O'Connell?” 

“I don’t answer to you, Morgan, same as I told that knight. I answer to Walker or Danse, the rest of you don’t matter.” 

“Boy, you’re gonna be learnin’ the hard way today, ain’t you?” 

Oh, man, was he itchin’ for a good rumble. 

Just then, Haylen entered the room, med kit in hand. No doubt she was here to monitor the dipshit’s well-being, probably on Danse’s orders. 

“Lovely, the other harlot here to check up on me.” 

That pissed Morgan off. His momma had raised him never to disrespect a lady like that, or anyone for that matter. They had been old world ideals, but they had stuck with him all this time. Well, sorta. He was still pretty hotheaded and childish when the occasion called for it. O’Connell calling Diana a whore was what prompted Ashton to knock him out in the first place. 

The jab didn’t even faze Haylen. She placed her things on the shelf nearby, and walked straight up to the cell, standing nearly toe-to-toe with O’Connell, other than the bars in the way. 

“The way I see it, initiate, you and I can either do this the easy way -" 

O'Connell spit at her feet. 

“Or the hard way,” Haylen glared at the cage bound initiate. Maybe Ashton wasn’t going to have to step in for her, she looked like she could hold her own. “Listen, jackass, I don’t keep addictol on hand like Cade does – I've never had to before. You tell Morgan what you took, you tell Morgan where your stash is, and your life will be one hell of a lot easier. Otherwise you’re going to have a real fun time detoxing in that cell.” 

“Fuck you.” 

_ THWACK!_

Well, Haylen sure didn’t need his help. She was a quick one, and a bit of a spitfire at that. Morgan hadn’t even seen where she’d gotten the ruler she’d just hit O’Connell with. 

“I’ll be here all day, O’Connell,” she said in a huff. “Scoot over, Morgan.” Better not mess with her right now, not that Morgan was really in the mood to play, either. 

Chems. Know what goes with chems? Raiders. Two things he hated, and he got to sit around in the jailroom and deal with this dipshit while he stewed. 

He’d grown up on a quiet little old brahmin farm with his momma and his dad. It was hard work, and they were by no means well-off or anything, but they got by just as well as any other folks in their area did. He did have _ some _ fond memories, like how momma liked to look through her hairstyle magazines in the evenings while he sprawled out on the floor looking through a beat-up old encyclopedia, the letter P. P for “Peregrine falcon”, p for “pterodactyl”, p for “plane” ... 

P for pilot. 

Maybe he’d always had a thing for flying, considering he’d never even seen a vertibird yet. 

Round about the time that Ashton turned 10 or so, times got a little hard when they lost a chunk of their herd to sickness. Momma had just had another baby a few months prior, his brother Peter, and in desperation his old man started to feed the brahmin mushrooms. Dumbass got into jet synthesis, and at some point during his stint doing that, got hooked on the garbage, which led to a very angry Ashton Morgan fightin’ his way through the next few years. 

His old man made every excuse it the book, calling it “survivin’”, Ashton called it “fuckin’ stupid, you waste of space.” 

They were stuck, mostly because his dad started cutting deals with a local raider gang. All crap that went against absolutely everything that he’d learned in his childhood, though Ashton supposed he probably lost his childhood the first time his dad made him run chems to the gang, if not before that. Poor Peter never even got a chance to be a kid. 

He was gonna leave the farm as soon as he knew he could get his momma and Petey somewhere safe. His old man sure as hell didn’t deserve them anymore, and if he was gonna work with raiders he could do it himself without using his kids to do his dirty work. It wasn’t an easy dream to have, though, with raider eyes always on the farm. At that point, those bastards more or less owned both the farm and the Morgans. 

Gangs ain’t without their rivalries though, and who the hell do you think pays the price when the rivals come a-knockin'? It sure as hell wasn’t the boss that his daddy had been cutting deals with. 

Ashton really, really thought they might make it out if they ran fast enough, but it was just naivety talkin’. Momma handed Peter off to him and told him to run while their entire lives burned in the background, sacrificing herself trying to make sure her boys got to safety. 

They got her, and then the psycho-frenzied bastards caught up to him and Petey. 

_ “Ooh, we got ourselves a pretty boy!” _

The things that those two raider bastards were saying they could use him for after they got Ashton pinned down made his skin crawl to this day, but it didn’t much matter. What they said stoked the flame Ashton needed to fight his way out of there, and fight he did while he made sure Petey covered his eyes so he couldn’t see. 

That was the night he and Peter became orphans, leaving a 14-year-old to care for a 5-year-old alone, the same night that Ashton put his first two raiders in the dirt with nothin' but a rock to bash their skulls in.

At some point while Ashton was lost in his memories, his breathing had become labored and his hands clenched into fists, knuckles white. Enough to worry the scribe he was sitting by. 

“Hey, Ashton, are you alright?” 

“Ashton, huh? Since when do _you_ call me that?” 

He hadn’t meant to come off as rude, and certainly not to someone as good as Haylen. At least he’d been brought back down to Earth. Haylen was patient enough with him though, only pursing her lips a little bit. 

“I had to say something to get you to snap out of it. Come on, now, deep breaths.” 

“I’m sorry, Haylen, I didn’t mean to offend. Got lost in my thoughts is all.” 

“If you think_ that _offended me, then I am a hell of a lot tougher than you think, Morgan. You haven’t answered me though: are you alright? It’s my job to know.” 

Right, right. Her job. “I reckon so, doc.” 

“Okay. As your friend, though?” 

“Aw, shucks. We’re friends?” 

His lips quirked up in a slight smile at the thought of her actually taking the time to care. He wasn’t thick-skulled, he figured it was probably a pipe dream, but the thought was nice all the same. 

His smile washed away when he realized that she’d only cared because he let a part of himself slip out that nobody else was meant to see, definitely not a lady and definitely not someone of the same caliber as Haylen or Diana. 

“Don’t ruin it, Morgan.” 

“Yes, ma’am. I really am fine, just can’t stand jet jittery chem addicts.” 

“You think it’s jet? I don’t know, he’s been up a while...” 

“If you want my professional opinion, I’d reckon it’s psychojet. Might even put caps on it.” 

A cackle came from the holding cell behind them. Sure enough, the asshole was listening. 

“We have a winner! Tell me now, lad, how did you know?” 

He was going to have to will himself to tune O’Connell out, otherwise he might lose it and the initiate might find himself in a watery grave. They were conveniently close to the Charles river, after all. 

Ashton couldn’t really afford to waste any more brain cells thinking about it, and he also couldn’t afford to murder someone and get kicked out of the Brotherhood, or, y’know, executed. Hell, he owed his whole life to the Brotherhood now, and Elder Maxson in particular. 

‘Sides, he had a baby brother waiting for him on the Prydwen, doing whatever it is that squires do when their families are away. Peter was all that Ashton had left, and it would be a cold day in hell before Ashton ever did anything to disappoint that kid. 

It took him some time, considering that O'Connell had entered the compound on a relatively fresh high, but he did eventually get those jitters that Morgan knew. 

“Morgan wake up.” 

Damnit, caught napping. Lancers didn’t usually play prison warden, and he’d gotten up pretty early this morning. Still ain’t an excuse to be shirking your duties, though. 

The lancer's eyes fluttered open and he yawned. Some time during his catnap his head had found its way to Haylen’s shoulder. Whoops. 

“Why’d you let me doze off, miss Haylen?” 

“Honestly? You looked like you needed it. Anyway, Walker just walked in.” 

She didn’t even bother to mention his intrusion on her personal space - yet another kindness shown to him by the scribe. Two in one day, eh? He was on a roll. Better straighten up and pretend he wasn’t taking inappropriate naps, though by the way that Walker was stomping this way, he wouldn’t have noticed Morgan at all. 

“God DAMNIT, O’Connell, you’re mixing chems now???” 

Walker looked like he was just about to blow a gasket at the guy, waving an empty psychojet syringe in the air before violently hurling it into the nearest trash can, pieces of glass fragmenting from the force. This wasn’t the Walker he was familiar with, regular Walker was just crabby. Naw, he was even angrier than usual, and looked to have a personal stake in it. 

“You sponsorin’ him or somethin’, Walker? You’re angrier than a yao guai wakin' up from a nap.” 

“Don’t be a smartass, Morgan,” he quipped, and Morgan shut his mouth. “So, O'Connell, you trying to kill yourself the same way you killed your wife or what?” 

Oh, so they_ knew _each other. Walker sure knew how to twist a blade to make a man hurt, judging by the way O’Connell’s face crumpled as he fell to his knees. The aggression from the Psycho vanished, replaced by sobs that began to wrack the initiate to his core as he hugged his knees. 

Walker strode forward, anger now tapered from a roaring blaze to a smolder in his ash-colored eyes. He knelt down to speak to O’Connell, armored frame clunking when his knee hit the ground. 

“Rian, look at me.” 

“No.” 

“_Look at me.” _

O’Connell looked up meekly, gaze hollow. 

“That shit killed Marie.” 

The initiate nodded back in response. 

“That shit killed Marie, and it’s going to kill you. Now, where in the hell did you get the chems?” 

Raiders. There were raiders holed up in the square, and Morgan was still itchin’ for that fight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty heavy-handed with the Morgan backstory, but I can afford to do it with Morgan where I can't really do that with everyone because of the setup for the story as a whole, and in particular this next couple of chapters.
> 
> Morgan, as we will learn, goes hard, but I wanted to throw his background in there and this just felt like the right place to do it to give him some context in the future.
> 
> I didn't come in here trying to give Walker and O'Connell a backstory, but it just kind of happened. It's not detailed or anything, and I don't know if it ever will go beyond "they know each other" in the story because they're kind of in limbo between secondary characters and minor characters, but there you have it.


	10. Ruckus

1530 hours: Paladin Danse, Knight Rhys, and Initiate Carter returned from Cambridge Polymer Labs. 

Paladin Danse was briefed immediately upon arrival. After a mostly unproductive morning, Lancer Morgan and Knight-Sergeant Walker discovered that Initiate O’Connell had taken PsychoJet sometime between morning training and his jail watch shift. Haylen was instructed to look over Initiate Carter for radiation sickness. 

“Really, sir, I’m fine, I don’t think I took that many rads. I can fight with the rest of you.”

“Carter, you’re getting checked out.” 

“But sir…” 

“That’s a negative, initiate. If Haylen decides that you’re fine, you can join her and Broussard on their supply run.” 

Danse’s voice was stern, and Rhys snickered behind the Paladin as he addressed Carter. The look Rhys gave Haylen said _I__’ll tell you later, _but if Rhys knew something that she didn’t, Haylen wanted to know _now. _He got to have all of the fun today while Haylen got to sit on her ass and babysit. 

Carter did as she was told, sitting on the edge of the sick bed while Haylen went through the motions. Hmm. At a glance, Diana didn’t look too sick, but if the paladin wanted her checked out... 

She shot a “what the hell” look at Rhys, but all he could do is shrug, and as soon as Danse left the room, Diana folded her arms in a pout. 

“Haylen, I really don’t feel sick. I’m okay.” 

“If that’s so, then why am I wasting time looking at you? Danse wants me to dose you with RadAway, and he wouldn’t ask me to without a reason - were you faking sick to get out of a fight or something?” 

Carter looked shocked, and maybe even a little hurt at the suggestion. No, Haylen didn’t suppose that Carter would be asking to join an assault team if she’d been trying to get out of fighting. Something else was up. 

“Tell you what, initiate, I’ll clear you for escort if you tell me what happened.” 

“Hmm, that does sound pretty tempting. What’s the objective?” 

“Well, Broussard and I are heading into Diamond City for a couple of things that I don’t have here at the station. If you’re not interested, you could just stay here on watch...” she teased, knowing full well that Diana had been itching to get out of the station the few days she’d been stuck on watch. 

“Deal. Not until we leave though?” 

“Alright, Carter. Deal.” 

There is supposed to be a place for everything and everything in its place. If she wasn’t needing to use the RadAway on Diana after all, she needed to tidy back up. Being a combat medic meant working in absolute chaos when you were in the field, but the way that Scribe Johnson left the sick room made it look like the inside of the station _ was _ the battlefield. Hopefully she wasn’t going to come back to more chaos after the supply run. 

“Diana, Haylen.” 

Oh, the drawl. 

Ashton Morgan didn’t seem like the type that had a whole lot of depth to him, but the flashback she’d seen him go through made her begin to wonder otherwise. And his file said he had become a full-fledged lancer at 16? Almost 17? That was kind of impressive. Now, it wasn’t as impressive as Elder at 16, but impressive. She’d kind of assumed Morgan was dumb, but pilots couldn’t really afford to be morons. Maybe that was the mostly carefree attitude and the drawl that made him seem like an airhead. 

“Ah, the Brotherhood’s second most eligible bachelor. Come to check up on my patient?” 

“Yeah, I’m here for miss Diana. Hold on now, Haylen, second most?” 

“I was being generous, but I could knock you down a few spots, if you’d like. There’s Rhys, there’s Danse, there’s that one scribe from Megaton...I’m pretty sure that I’d be put in front of a firing squad if I didn’t put Elder Maxson in the top spot though.” 

“Well, I’ll be damned, second only to the Elder himself. I like those odds you’re givin’ me, Haylen.” 

“Dream on, Morgan.” 

“Anyway, Diana, I heard about the lab...” 

Haylen had been busy giving an exaggerated eyeroll to Morgan, but turned around when she heard Diana start to wheeze. It turned out that she was just choking on the water she had in hand. 

“What did you hear?” she sputtered, smacking her chest with her fist, as if_ that _was going to help her. The reaction piqued Haylen’s curiosity, though, and judging by the shit-eating grin now spreading across his face, had piqued Morgan’s too. 

“Danse was worried you got a few too many rads. Why, what did you _ do?” _

_ “Nothing.” _

"Miss Diana, you ain’t got much of a poker face.” 

“Morgan! If you want in on the op, you better get your ass in here!” called Walker from across the station. 

Morgan wiggled his eyebrows at Diana, smirk still plastered on his face. “Don’t think you’re off the hook, little lady, I’ll get it out of you later,” he threatened, and off he went to join the boys. 

Must be nice. Big bunch of tough guys, with their big stupid weapons, and their big stupid armor, all waiting to bring testosterone-fueled-justice to what could only be a small handful of raiders if they’d been holed up so close undetected. Haylen rolled her eyes again, this time to herself. Walker may have been the one planning the mission, but didn’t Danse think this was a little bit of overkill? 

Meanwhile, Haylen and the only other two women that were in the station were basically just being sent on a glorified shopping trip because O’Connell needed addictol. 

By 1615, Haylen and Diana were on the road with Knight Amelie Broussard accompanying them. It was supposed to be a quick trip, maybe 2- or 3-hours max. Haylen told Diana to bring her caps anyway, just in case they found anything fun in the city. The walk was kind of nice, with Di humming a tune all the way to the bridge crossing into the Fens. 

“Alright, spill, Diana. Why wouldn’t Danse let you in on the op?” 

“Because they’re sexist,” Broussard muttered. 

“That’s not it,” Diana added, quick to defend her paladin. “He really thought I was radsick.” 

“Why though? Danse knows what radiation sickness looks like.” 

Di went on to give a brief recount of feral ghouls, of science experiments, of a glowing one...and of a busted clean-room shower? 

“So, the decontamination chamber was busted, and all three of you got hit with the tainted mist, so what?” 

Diana sighed. “I might have gotten a little weak in the knees, I guess.” 

“Because...?” 

The woman took her right hand in her left, tracing over an old scar she had on her palm with her thumb. The motion and the way that her brows knit together in concentration was enough of an answer for Haylen. 

Rhys had told Haylen he thought Diana was damaged goods, that Vault-tec fried her brain or something, but as a medic Haylen had seen plenty of soldiers that had lived through some sort of anguish and come out the other side of it a different person. 

Call it a short circuit, call it seeing a ghost, call it whatever you like - Carter wasn’t the only one. Unlike Morgan, and whatever painfully sharp memories he seemed to have, Diana’s memories were more of an unclear jumble. All she had left was a few memories of her brother Nate, and a surprising knack for remembering songs. Haylen suspected major trauma, especially with that large scar on her palm. 

“Danse took off his hood,” she said, voice scarcely above a whisper so that only Haylen could hear, “I guess I’ve never caught him without it.” 

So that was it. Maybe Danse had a doppelganger running around Boston 200 years ago. 

1640, they were making good time. Suspiciously good. They had missed a fight with some raiders on the bridge, it looked like, since there were a bunch of dead ones strewn throughout a small boat. Haylen hoped that whoever had put them down was friend rather than foe. She liked being in the field, but hated the sight of blood being spilled just for the sake of it. 

_ They’re just raiders, _she told herself, _they probably deserved it. _

The jaunt to the city was not without any violence though. Men in strange outfits were in the midst of a confrontation near the city’s outer gate, and one’s leg had a sizeable hole in it – from the looks of it he’d sustained a fair amount of blood loss. Haylen wasn’t sure if this fight was any of their business, but... 

Ah, what the hell. She was trained for this and the guy needed a tourniquet before he lost any more blood. Haylen was of the opinion that the Brotherhood ought to be more charitable when they could afford to be. 

Besides, these guys were in the thick of it up against muties. Haylen looked at Diana, and Broussard gave a quick nod to the pair from within her helmet. 

“The enemy of the enemy is our friend, yeah? The boys shouldn’t get to have all the fun today,” Amelie said, charging into the thick of the battle while a couple of the other guys dove out of her way. Another scooched over to allow Diana some space next to him behind their sandbags. 

Haylen herself rushed to the side of the dizzy uniformed man, thankful that she’d decided to come fully prepared. She ripped the man’s pant leg with the help of a combat knife, giving her better access to the wound. Alright, good, the bullet had gone clean through the leg, which was great news – it meant a quick stim without having to worry about fishing any bullets out. 

Apply tourniquet, stim to the area, check pulse... good, good. The stimpak was already beginning to work, she could see some of the muscle fibers already trying to stitch together through the hole. She could come back in a few minutes to remove the tourniquet, after the stim worked it’s magic. 

“You’ll be fine, stay put.” 

“Thanks, lady,” he rasped. 

“Hey Haylen! If you’re done with that guy, I could use a spotter!” roared Knight Broussard while bullets whizzed past her helmet. The woman was the only true grenadier in the station, and you know what?_ Walker was a moron, leaving her out of his raider op_. There. Haylen said it. Well, thought it, anyway. 

Amelie Broussard plopped her bag of projectiles on the ground next to Haylen, and withdrew her missile launcher from its place slung across her shoulder. 

“Load me up!” 

Haylen did as she was told while Broussard steadied her launcher. The kickback on those things was insane - Haylen knew damn well to move out of the way. The other guy standing next to them apparently did not, and nearly got knocked on his ass from standing so close. 

_ That’ll teach you to use a Brotherhood knight as a meat shield. _

Over behind the sandbags, Diana was getting increasingly irritated at the man she was next to. He kept bumping her or otherwise getting in the way of her aim, causing her to miss her shots and blow through more ammunition than she was comfortable with. 

“Knight, I’ve gotta go check on my patient.” 

“You’re good, Haylen. Get going,” Broussard replied. “Hey! Civvy! If you’re going to hide behind me can you make yourself useful? Load me up!” 

The guy that Haylen had treated was doing good, he’d managed to drag himself to a less dangerous spot and prop himself against a wall. His lower leg was a bit cool to the touch, she needed to restore bloodflow before it started going blue. Hopefully the stim had done its job... 

Yep. Leg started to pink up almost immediately. Haylen’s relief was rather short-lived, the sound she could hear back in the direction of the mutie stronghold wasn’t one anyone wanted to hear - the dreaded bleep of a suicider with a mini nuke. 

The words “Shit! I’m out of missiles!” coming from Broussard didn’t ease her fears, either. 

“Only one of us survives this, and it won’t be you!” it cried. Nobody was going to accuse it of being intelligent, that’s for sure. 

“Carter! Aim for the nuke!” Haylen screamed. A couple of the guys they were fighting beside went running for the hills, but the guy next to Diana stayed. If he bumped her again, he’d screw this up for all of them. 

Diana was usually so mild-mannered that the sight of her shoving the man out of her way in a mixture of extreme irritation and desperation was a surprise, although an incredibly welcome one. They didn’t have long. 

Carter dropped back down behind the bags, took a deep breath, and aimed - 

There was the hum from one of the laser projectiles flying toward the green menace, and then a bright green light when the shot connected. 

_ BOOM. _

No more muties. 

“Damn, you ladies ain’t afraid of super mutants, eh? Our kinda gals,” the guy that Diana had shoved piped up, “Name’s Vic, Diamond City Security.” 

“Sorry for pushing you out of the way,” she replied, helping the man back to his feet. 

“Don’t be, lady, if you didn’t, we wouldn’t be talking. You know, if you gals are stickin’ around a while, we owe you a round. On Johnny, since you saved his life and all,” he added, looking over toward Haylen. Diana shook her head behind the Vic guy, mouthing a very dramatic _ NO _in Haylen’s direction. Hopefully the guard wasn’t going to mistake the sparkle in Haylen’s eye for interest, because she was fighting to keep her face straight. 

Guy had stones, trying to hit on a group of ladies that had to save his near-useless butt in a firefight. 

The injured one, Johnny, had seen the pair’s exchange and found it amusing. “Hey Vicky, stop tryin’ to butter them up and help me walk back inside. I gotta get to Sun,” he laughed, “they’re outta your league anyway.” 

“Don’t I know it. Alright, I’m comin’.” 

The women managed to remain stone-faced for the remainder of their walk into the city, and Vic and Johnny kindly vouched for Amelie when another guard tried to stop her from entering the city with her heavy weaponry. Once they were in, they parted ways with the guards at a clinic while a grumpy doctor berated them for pulling stupid stunts. 

They strode straight on, past a noodle stand, past a weapon shop, until they were certain they were out of earshot of the guards. 

All they had to do was look at each other before they collapsed into laughter. Haylen had to hold her sides because they were beginning to ache, and Broussard removed her helmet to wipe tears that were streaming down her face, silvery hair spilling past her shoulders. Diana had to lean up against Broussard to try and catch her breath again. 

“Look, if you guys are synths, you need to get the hell away from my shop,” an angry, suspicious shopkeeper barked at the trio. 

“Why –” Diana started, having a hard time regaining her composure, “why on Earth would you think that we’re synths?” 

The woman's eyes narrowed suspiciously at Diana, before moving on to appraise the others in the same way. “Well, it’s a little weird is all. Three strangers show up outside of my shop and lose it like that,” she said, giving a pointed glare back to Diana. “Seems like the kinda thing a bunch of synths would do.” 

They devolved into another fit of laughter at the absurd accusation, and promptly got kicked out of her storefront. 

1807, their mission in the city had been completed and they had resupplied themselves with plenty of ammo for the return trip, and now they were on their way out of the city. Diana had also managed to have time to get her hair trimmed and purchase a brush for herself, and then the three were treated to a bowl of noodles by some off-duty guards that wanted to hear how they “saved the city" or whatever. 

“Is it true that you rode in on a deathclaw?” “Is it true that you dropped in from one of those vertibirds like some sort of angels to save the city?” “Is it true that you fought off a behemoth all by yourselves?” 

From the sound of it, the guards that had been part of the firefight had taken some serious creative liberty with their retelling of the events. Maybe the boys didn’t get to have all of the fun today, after all. 

On their way toward the gate, some young man in a Letterman’s jacket caught up to them. 

“Are…ar-are y-you the brotherhood soldiers the guards are all talking about?” 

“Who wants to know?” Knight Broussard asked. 

“O-oh. Well…well I’m Travis, and-and one of my friends got k-kidnapped and I think it’s my fault and I-I wanted to know if you could maybe? Help me? Or something? Because the guards won’t. Or maybe they can’t.” 

“Are you always this nervous around girls?” 

“Yes. Well, no. I’m just always nervous. Around anybody.” 

The knight thought about it. On one hand, Brotherhood soldiers were supposed to mostly stay out of civilian business if it didn’t directly involve their conflict. On the other, the security in this city was clearly useless, and any positive reputation that they could build for the Brotherhood with the people of the Commonwealth would be immensely beneficial. 

“Depends, civilian,” Broussard began, “who kidnapped your friend?” 

“Well, um…raiders, I guess. From Beantown? Brewery?” 

“Raiders, huh? Well, ladies, Beantown's on the way, and the enemy of our enemy…” 

“Is our friend!” Haylen and Diana replied in unison. 

1813 – change of plans. Help the civilian, THEN report back to the station. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lets throw in a little bit of basis for female friendship, shall we?
> 
> I'll admit to missing my own gal pals right now, because I had too much fun with this. We would totally laugh together at the expense of diamond city's finest.
> 
> These three need a galentine's day.
> 
> Hopefully Haylen's combat medic training application sounds believable.  



	11. Riot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is semi-gratuitous usage of capslock toward the end. I don't know why I feel like warning you about it, but there ya go.

_ Has Walker ever even led an op like this? _Rhys wondered to himself as Walker dragged on planning his weirdly-aggressive crusade against whatever raiders sold O’Connell the chems. 

The original plan was to wait until nightfall, but it wasn’t even dark before Walker led the assault team out into Cambridge. This was already one rule of Danse’s that had been broken, the one he’d gone over with Carter earlier this morning: be decisive. Planning one thing and then doing something else...why even bother making a plan? 

And another thing, he’d picked a big team. Walker, Jackson, Rhys, Rodriguez, Howe... and then adding Morgan into the fold? The hell did they need a lancer for? Yeah, you’d have to take O’Connell’s word that there were only a couple of these guys with a grain of salt, but six people seemed like, well...a lot. Were they going to blow another crater in Cambridge or what? 

If Walker really thought that they were going to get into deep shit and need to hit hard, he should have brought Broussard. Rhys was kind of surprised the Knight-Sergeant picked another rifleman and a lancer over a field scribe and a grenadier to round out his team, but whatever. Questioning Walker’s tactical decisions might have been out of line and Rhys wasn’t sure how well Walker handled a little bit of discourse from a subordinate. 

Hell, maybe Rhys’d just gotten spoiled running missions under Danse for so long. Danse was a seasoned veteran, Walker had only been enlisted for a couple of months longer than Rhys had, and he hadn’t been stationed here for the recon. Walker was mostly here to supervise Rhys and Haylen while he acted as prison warden. He was supposed to be good with the bureaucratic stuff and keeping things running. 

Their target was just outside of the area Rhys had sent Carter to clear out weeks ago. This place was way too quiet, and not in an “oh shit they’re watching us” way. 

Without the cover of night, it was likely that whatever raiders had been here earlier decided to clear out when they noticed a giant pack of power-armored dudes rolling this way in broad-fuckin'-daylight.

“Morgan, Rhys. Head in and see if you can find anything.” 

_ Sure, make us go alone while all of the heavies are out here. _

There was very little to be found in the crumbled buildings but the stench of rotting, exposed wood and trash, but a still-burning barrel fire confirmed that someone had been here recently. 

“Hey, Rhys, check this out.” 

Morgan had found an abandoned .50 cal sniper rifle near one of the caved in walls, and the hole faced the direction of the alley that led to the station. The owner was either alone and afraid to pick a fight, or out of ammo. Finders keepers – Rhys slung the weapon over his shoulder. He personally didn’t have any use for it, but Recon Squad Gladius were now the proud owners of a not-so-bad rifle. 

The two pressed on, picking their way through room after caved-in room, still on high alert. Another hole in a wall revealed a rickety plank bridge leading from the building to a shipping trailer, and ultimately, a roof. Shit was barely stable. Rhys was pretty sure Morgan was going to break the boards and Morgan was leaner than he was. 

Still, when Morgan cleared the bridge, Rhys followed on, all the while holding his breath and thinking light thoughts. He was as light as a feather, never done weight training a day in his life... 

_ Someone _had been camping up here, there was another barrel fire in a corner that was kind of obscured, maybe to keep passers-by from spotting the light. The spot had a clear view of the entire square. You didn’t need a scope to see people coming from a mile away. What else was up here? 

Bingo. Steamer trunk. Morgan worked on opening that while Rhys looked through the rest of the camp. There was a chair parked behind a little bit of intact wall, giving whoever was on watch just enough cover not to be spotted, and a crumpled note on the ground beside it. 

“New Tolls:   
10 Caps - Farmers, Children...” 

So, they were charging people to pass through here. There were explicit instructions for the camper to leave the “freaks in power armor” alone – Rhys could only assume that meant Gladius, unless there were some other people clunking through the square. 

He walked back over to check up on Morgan’s progress with the trunk, giving him a light whack on the shoulder and handing the note over to him. 

“Let me take a crack at that trunk, Morgan.” 

With a little bit of finesse, Rhys was pretty sure he could pick the lock on the damn thing, as long as Morgan hadn’t broken it trying to force the lock. He even had his own set of picks and everything. 

The lock gave way with a soft _click, _and Rhys got knocked to the ground with a loud _thud. _

_ “Aw_, damnit, ambush!” 

“No shit, Morgan!” 

Whatever was in that trunk was apparently valuable enough to provoke a desperate attack, and the camper had gotten the drop on him. Some raider freak had Rhys in a triangle choke – a weak one, and a dull knife to his back. 

Rhys didn’t need his help, but Morgan pried the weak-ass punk off of his back anyway. 

Raider woman. She was a waif with sunken in eyes, the jagged smile on her face sinister and unsettling. 

“You boys here for the chems, or a good time?” 

_ Not fucking likely._

“Depends, darlin’, you the only one here?” 

Good grief, did Morgan just flirt with everything that had legs, or what? Nah... maybe not. There wasn’t even a hint of interest in the Lancer’s eyes - that usual green spark of mischief that was there went flat into the darker hues of his hazel. 

He was playing her for info. Maybe Rhys could play up the indifferent soldier routine and hopefully Morgan could take the hint and lay it on thick? 

“Just tell us who you’re working for, ugly old bat, and maybe we’ll let you go.” 

Rhys had to admit, it wasn’t his best insult, but it did its job. The remark offended her, which was all he needed. He wasn’t really sure how to play this from here, misdirection wasn’t really his thing. 

“I ain’t telling you shit. I saw your whole team of freaks show up, I ain’t squealin’ on the boss. He’ll kill all of you, then he’ll hang me from the rafters.” 

Morgan upped his game, however slightly, playing with the woman’s greasy hair a bit. 

“Aww, well now I’m offended. You think we couldn’t handle your lil’ old boss? You’d tell _ me _, wouldn’t ya?” 

She made a quick, nervous glance off into the distance, and just...gave in. Just like that, which probably meant trouble. 

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt...I’m working out of Beantown Brewery,” she said, directing a sharp look of disdain in Rhys’s direction. “I like the pretty boy, he knows how to treat a lady.” 

Rhys didn’t know what she said, but every hair on Morgan’s body seemed to stand on end, and he got a dangerous look about him. Morgan cupped her chin in both hands and gave her that trademark smirk, leaning in closer to whisper “Aww, sweetheart, raiders ain’t ladies.” 

And then snapped her fucking neck._ Holy shit. _

What was weird was the way that Morgan was still holding the woman up. 

“Don’t move, Rhys.” 

“Why the hell not? Holy - _w__hat the hell was_ _that, _Morgan?” 

“Knight, you’ve got a rifle pointed at your head from across the way. If either of us move much, they’ll figure out I killed her, and you’re dead as a doornail so long as their aim’s right. Now, if you want to cooperate with me...” 

Well, shit. 

“Alright then, Morgan. Dive for that wall on three?” 

“Let’s do it.” 

“One...” 

“Two...” 

“Three!” 

Morgan dropped the girl and they hit the dirt. A bullet still grazed Rhys a bit on the shoulder, but that sting was better than being dead. 

The fight didn’t exactly last long - as soon as that first shot rang out, the others on the ground below were firing up at the roof of the other building. A laser gatling, four rifles, and a pistol was more than enough to take out the only other raider in the square. 

Overkill. 

Well, they had what they came for. Information and a trunk filled to the brim with chems, and now Walker wanted to take the fight across the river to the old brewery. 

If Walker was going to suggest something stupid, Rhys resolved to speak up this time, and what do you know? 

He suggested something stupid. 

“We breach the door and go in through the loading bay. That gives us an escape, but we can hit them hard and fast.” 

Okay, so Walker knew one small unit strategy, or at least what was written on paper, but...Rhys looked up at the building they were about to assault. It was tall, and going in through the loading bay meant they were probably going into open air. Plus, the sound of a breach wasn’t exactly subtle. 

“Knight-Sergeant?” 

“Knight Rhys?” 

“You’re going to get us all shot in the fucking head.” 

There was that attitude that Haylen was always checking him on - same attitude that Top was trying to get him to curb a little, and for good reason. Even though he was _ right, _goddamnit. It was bad enough that they were out in the open back in the square, but it didn’t matter. His bluntness and colorful language just irritated Walker. 

“I’m the senior officer, Rhys.” 

“I mean no disrespect, sir, but...” 

“But I’m the senior officer.” 

“Look, that building is several stories tall, we don’t know the layout of the...” 

“_Knight!” _

Maybe it was a good fucking thing that Walker had sent the girls on ahead to Diamond City instead of letting any of them come on his mission. At least THEY would probably make it back to the police station in one piece. This was going to be a disaster. 

Rhys was no deserter though, so he shut his trap, and prepared for the breach. 

* * *

Travis was nervous. Very nervous. 

He was always nervous, though, and that’s what had gotten him into this mess in the first place. And now he was heading into a deathtrap with three pretty girls_ that could kick his ass._ Probably harder than the guys from the bar fight. 

_ Breathe, Travis, you’re wheezing again. _

Travis didn’t really know the whole story, but this had something to do with a bar fight yesterday. It was a long story, and these Brotherhood girls probably didn’t care? No probably not at all. The guards didn’t even care. 

They weren’t very far from the brewery when he heard an explosion coming from the area. Ohhhhh, oh no. The girls didn’t even react, like they heard explosions all of the time or something. They probably did. Especially if they really did ride into Boston on a deathclaw... 

No, no that was probably not true because then they’d still have the deathclaw. Anyway, he was getting off track. 

“I...think that maybe...” he took a deep breath._ You know what you want to say, so say it._ “I think that sound came from the brewery.” 

“Well come on, let's go!” 

The one in the power armor seemed to be more-or-less the senior uh...officer? In charge. She bounded off in the direction of the sound fearlessly, with the other two right behind her. Travis wished he was that fearless, sometimes. 

Well, better now than never, he guessed. Time to be baptized by fire. Hopefully...hopefully not literally though? 

He didn’t realize he’d forgotten to run with them until the one with the hair bun came back for him and grabbed his arm to drag him off. 

* * *

Rhys had been right - waltzing in through the loading bay was suicide. 

They didn’t have the guns for this fight, they didn’t have the right kind of team, they didn’t have any more ‘nades... Power armor alone isn’t enough to save your ass, either, not that it even mattered. Him and Morgan didn’t have any so they were probably toast. 

Jackson was down. He was alive, but he’d been hit hard enough to where they might end up having to scuttle his armor if something didn’t turn around quick. 

“DAMNIT! Walker, don’t turn your...” 

“RHYS, I WON’T SAY IT AGAIN.” 

“YOUR EGO IS GOING TO GET US ALL KILLED!” 

He was genuinely trying to give Walker advice at this point, and the yelling had nothing to do with insubordination or attitude. You couldn’t hear shit over the gunfire. He had his goddamn back turned to the raiders, trying to talk to Howe over the sound of the firefight. If one of these guys hit his fusion core, they’d all be done for, and besides that some more of this gang had flanked them from the outside of the building and closed off their only escape. 

O’Connell’s jet habit was not worth DYING for. 

It wasn’t worth it to come in unprepared, without at least a frickin’ scribe or a better plan, or, maybe, a Paladin? The raiders had cover, the squad had jack shit. Simple as that. 

* * *

Travis and the girls had no idea what was going on inside, but it was loud. They’d been kind enough to give him a very hasty pep-talk and then they were in. 

Whoever was usually posted in the front room wasn’t there now. They were in...in the other room. The room with the noises. And so was Vadim Bobrov, probably. 

“Carter. Sweep. Now.” 

Nothing came out of it, and all that was left was to enter the Big Room. 

They opened the door and there they were – the bad guys. Travis had never...never really shot a gun before, not at a person, but he did it! He shot one of them! 

He wasn’t dead, but he shot one! Now there were only about a million left to go! 

The one with the hat...Haylen? Haylen. She was looking kind of desperate when she saw the scene down below. 

She took his face in both of her hands. Not to, you know, kiss him or anything, but because she wanted to make sure she had his attention. It was really, really loud. 

“TRAVIS! HOW FAST CAN YOU RUN?” 

“ARE...”_ you can’t yell if you stutter, Travis._

_ “ARE YOU KIDDING? _RUNNING IS THE ONLY THING I’M GOOD AT!” 

“TAKE THESE!” 

She removed some sort of necklace from her...person. Some sort of military thing? Tags. That’s the word. 

“I WANT YOU TO HAUL ASS ACROSS THAT BRIDGE OUTSIDE. DO YOU KNOW WHERE CAMBRIDGE POLICE STATION IS?” 

“WELL, SORT OF. I MEAN IT’S IN CAMBRIDGE RIGHT?” 

_ Very insightful, Travis. Great work. _

“GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME. TAKE THESE, LOOK FOR A MAN NAMED DANSE AND GIVE THEM TO HIM. YOU MIGHT PASS HIM ON HIS WAY HERE, YOU’LL KNOW WHO HE IS BY THE POWER ARMOR. BRING HIM HERE. WE’RE GOING TO GET YOUR FRIEND OUT OF HERE, BUT WE HAVE TO HELP OUR FRIENDS FIRST. OKAY?” 

“OKAY!” 

For the first time all evening, Travis felt like maybe he could be useful. They nodded at each other and he took off. 

“BROUSSARD! DEPLOYING DISTRESS PULSER!” 

* * *

He was going to die. He was going to die over something stupid and he’d never even bothered to...ugh. 

Rhys was finally ready to admit it to himself. 

He had feelings for Haylen. If there was a god, or an alien overlord thing, or a whatever-the-hell those atom people worshiped, Rhys needed a sign, because Walker’s back was to the raiders_ again _and one of them was aiming straight at his fusion core and they were going to _fucking _die. 

Hell, he’d even pray to one of those busted-ass pie machine things that were still around. 

It seemed like as soon as Rhys had gotten done bargaining with every deity he could think of, that the guy aiming at Walker magically dropped dead from his point high in the rafters. Did this mean he had to start worshiping pie? Well, it was better than the atom.

Whatever. He searched above to figure out what their possible saving grace was, and damnit, they must have all been the luckiest assault team in existence. He could almost cry. 

Haylen, Carter, and Broussard were up on the catwalk. They were cornered, sure, but they were holding, and Haylen was loading missiles for Broussard. 

“JESUS CHRIST, HAYLEN, I COULD KISS YOU!” 

There was no way in hell that she could hear that above the noise of the fight, but that was fine. He’d said it out loud. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I scrapped a whole future plot point for this, and I genuinely feel like it pays off.
> 
> I did something a little different than usual, peppering in those little snippets of Travis. Hopefully they sound kind of like he does, I never set out to involve Travis Miles in the story beyond Carter complaining about DCR way back in chapter 1. I mean, nervous Travis just sounds like a strange jumble of oddly placed punctuation marks anyway, so I'm hoping that I did just that in a believable way. I will not be making it a habit of writing him, besides throwing in a news segment (that i may not write out, may just allude to).
> 
> Anyway, I did this to break up the fighting a bit and to give some context of the girls coming in without having to write a whole different POV chapter with either Haylen or Carter, I wanted to save their POV for something with more substance.
> 
> I wanted this to feel a little more like a struggle than I generally write, and I wanted the end to feel loud, hence gratuitous capslock.


	12. 67 Seconds

Danse had stayed behind to catch up on paperwork while two teams went ahead to carry out simple missions. There were reports to file, reports to read, assignments to sort... and besides that, someone needed to remain behind in the station to provide backup to the scribe that was posted. 

It was a mostly quiet evening, the paladin finished his paperwork and ended up having some spare time to himself, a concept almost entirely foreign to him with how long he’d been in the Commonwealth. He filled the quiet by tinkering in the garage – tuning up his armor, tweaking the sight on his laser rifle – an ideal way to spend his time. He was close enough to keep an eye on both the inside and outside of the police station while he toyed. 

As the clock ticked onward, he slowly drifted from quiet content to restless unease. At least one team should have returned by now, and he began to wait for something, anything, to happen with bated breath. 

He couldn’t say he wasn’t expecting it after some time – the exhausted bleat of an active distress pulser. 

Sixty-seven seconds. That’s how long it took for him to be back in his armor, locked, and loaded. He strode into the station to give Scribe Johnson explicit instructions to hold down the fort. Should anything dire happen, Danse would activate a second distress pulser, and Johnson had unrestricted access to the station's comm system to call up to the Prydwen for backup. 

With clear instructions outlined for the scribe and machinegun turrets online, Danse thundered out of the building – a bolt of gleaming silver lightning streaking through the now-dark night. 

The signal wasn’t coming from the direction that Danse expected – he assumed it would either be coming from within the inner depths of Cambridge or from the east towards the bridge that led into Diamond City. The signal got weaker going that way, though, so he took to the west. When the signal began to come in stronger, he broke back into his feverish pace. 

In an intersection off of the main road he nearly collided with a frantic-looking civilian in a red jacket. 

“HEY ARE YOU DANSE?!” 

Why on earth was the civilian screaming at him? 

Danse skidded to a stop, nearly tearing up the ancient pavement beneath him. 

The civilian held up – 

No, it couldn’t be. He had holotags. Dread began to bubble in the pit of his stomach. Similar scenarios had played out in his nightmares, and, to his regret, real life. 

“HAYLEN SAID TO…Sorry. Haylen said to bring these to you, and take you to them.” 

The man’s claim was dubious at best, but…he knew Danse’s name, and the holotags_ were _Haylen’s. Given the circumstances, he was going to have to trust this man and take comfort in the notion that he could snap the civilian like a twig if this was part of a ruse. 

“Lead on, civilian.” 

In minutes they were outside of an old brewery, and from the sound of it, a hell of a fight was roaring inside. Safeties off – the paladin was here. 

When Danse opened the door leading into the warehouse portion, he was greeted with a broken beer bottle to the chest, about where his throat would be without the added height of his armor, and Carter at the other end. Intense relief washed over her face when she recognized that he was friend rather than foe, and she let the bottle slip from her grasp for it to shatter where it fell.

She had a cut above her eye and a bloodied lip to add to it, and a dead body lay nearby - jagged glass from another broken bottle protruding from a raider’s throat. All signs pointed to her having to resort to close-quarters combat, and she’d had to be damn resourceful at that because she was the only thing standing between an open door and the rest of her squad. She’d been protecting Haylen and Broussard. 

“They need help,” she rasped, slate grey eyes pleading with his to follow her before she rushed to the laser rifle she had dropped in combat. She disappeared out of the other side of the room, onto another catwalk, and began firing. 

What the hell had Danse just walked into? 

“TRAVIS! HOLD THAT DOOR INTO THE LOBBY!” Haylen yelled from the other direction. At least Danse now understood why the civilian, Travis, had been yelling at him. 

“I’M...OKAY! YES! I CAN DO THAT!” 

If these three were in the frying pan, then the other missing assault team was in the damn fire. From his vantage point behind Haylen and Broussard, Danse could clearly make out that Jackson had been knocked out below. Morgan’s arm was bloody and poorly wrapped, and Rhys was trying to make do hip-firing a rifle with one arm. He could also see Rodriguez rip Walker to the ground while he and Rhys berated him, all the while firing into the walkways above. They’d gotten themselves trapped – whose idea was it to come in through the damn loading bay? He_ knew _he’d taught Rhys better, especially after Corvega - 

The thought of Corvega made him shudder. Two good lives lost in a similar situation. 

_ Focus on the objective._

He assessed the situation further. With the civilian watching their backs and the other two holding position, his best course of action would be to go back the way that Carter had and flank them with her. If they could gain control from the back, then the rest of the squad could begin to close in on the raiders and take them out. This was entirely doable, and had Walker’s team come in from the entrance, they could have handled this themselves. 

Time was ticking, and he rushed to Carter’s side. 

“Are you ready, soldier?” 

“Affirmative, sir.” 

With that, the two pushed forward, taking down everything that dared to come at them. 

When the last raider hit the ground, Haylen spared no time rushing down the stairs with her med kit, working to aid the soldiers in a fervor. It turned out that the raiders had taken a captive from the city, and the men should be counting themselves damned lucky that Broussard, Carter, and Haylen happened to be here by coincidence assisting a civilian. 

“You’re telling me you cut a deal with_ these guys_ for a bar fi-" 

“Shh, keep voice down, lapochka. I was, eh, helping a friend. Speaking of, Travis! I am surprised you are here.” 

Danse couldn’t handle any more of this exchange, the less of the bartender’s story he knew, the better. There was no point trying to understand the man’s motivations. He stepped out of the office to survey the relief efforts beneath him – what he found was a quarrel. 

“Broussard, you had _NO BUSINESS -” _

_ “No business my ass, Walker, you -” _

_ “ _THEY SAVED OUR ASSES, WHAT THE HELL DO YOU CARE.” 

In the office behind, Travis politely thanked Carter and nearly dragged the bartender out of the building behind him while she moved out to rejoin the paladin. 

“What in the hell did you get yourselves into here, Carter?” 

“Frankly, sir, I don’t think we know.” 

“Well then, I suppose we should get down there and find out.” 

The team hushed their argument as Danse drew near, though the atmosphere was still burning with heated anger coming from all directions. 

Haylen had triaged her patients during the time Danse and Carter had spent freeing, and getting rid of, the bartender. The one in the worst state was Jackson, who had head trauma after his helmet had broken and would need assistance getting back to the police station. Blood loss in Morgan’s arm had been mitigated, and now she was attempting to perform a reduction on Rhys’s shoulder, if he could stop squirming. 

“Now that I know that you’re not all dead, would anyone here care to explain to me what that argument was all about?” 

“I don’t know how you run your team, Danse, but every single one of these people are -” 

Walker caught himself before continuing, apparently forgetting that he was addressing a superior. So, their insubordination was somehow _ his _fault, was it? Danse crossed his arms over his chest, a mixture of intrigue and aggravation already beginning to gnaw at his patience. 

“Rodriguez.” 

“Yes, Paladin?” 

He needed to remain impartial, which meant asking anybody_ but _Walker or Rhys to report…for now. 

“I noticed you yanking Walker to the ground earlier. Why?” 

“Because he...” 

“Because they’re insubordinate,”Walker started. That was another strike, which prompted Danse to give an icy glare of warning. 

“Walker, I wasn’t addressing you. Rodriguez, report.” 

The knight looked hesitant, waiting to be cut off again, but obliged. “Walker’s fusion core was exposed to the enemies’ line of fire. After Knight Rhys’s advice was repeatedly blown off by Knight-Sergeant Walker, I took matters into my own hands, I guess,” he admitted. He supposed that it was technically insubordination, albeit for damned good reason. 

“Broussard, what was your part in the argument about?” 

“_Their team had no business...” _Walker growled, but that was it. Danse’s patience only reached so far, and after being interrupted for a second time, he had absolutely none left. Especially when Walker had been bold enough to imply that Danse didn’t have a grip on his team. 

He turned to face the Knight-Sergeant; aggravation now developed into a cold rage. 

“It would seem to me, Walker,” he began, “that your _gross _negligence is what nearly wiped out _MY ENTIRE TEAM, _and that you ought to consider yourself damn lucky to be alive. That would be _thanks _to Broussard, Carter, and Haylen being here by sheer coincidence - whatever problem you have with them is irrelevant. Now, if you’d allow me the courtesy, I would like to continue my investigation with no further interruption.” 

“Yes, sir,” the Knight-Sergeant replied weakly. It wasn’t at all the paladin’s style to berate someone in front of an entire team, but Walker had left him with little choice. No matter, if Danse caught wind of any type of retaliation against the rest of the team, he’d have Walker’s rank called into question, since that seemed to be what he cared about. 

“Look, Walker,” he added, anger now fading, “part of climbing up the ladder is knowing when to be humble enough to set aside your rank and take the advice of your subordinates. They look to you for guidance, and you protect them in turn.” 

_ You protect them in turn. _The words coming out of his mouth made his gut twist in an uncomfortable way, but it was better for Walker to learn from a reprimand and a close call than it was for him to learn the hard way, for him to have his insides twist in guilt the way that Danse’s did. 

You can’t protect everyone, no matter how good your intentions may be. 

“_J__ESU- AUGH!” _

Well, it sounded like Haylen had gotten Rhys’s shoulder back in place. 

Not long after his unceremonious dress-down of Walker, they had returned to Cambridge. Danse was tired of paperwork, and as a sort of tailored discipline, had decided that it would be Walker that would draw up the report for the Prydwen.

He saw it fitting to make Walker admit at least some fault in an official capacity, but the biggest requirement Danse gave was that Walker was to recommend strongly that O’Connell return to the airship once he’d served his time. Walker could clearly not be trusted to work with the man without getting emotional and endangering entire squads. 

Generally speaking, Danse knew exactly where to find his team when they wanted to be alone; well, the three he’d really considered his, anyway. When his shoulder wasn’t dislocated, Rhys was likely to be found outside of the garage shadowboxing, either working out anger or just his technique. Haylen, when she needed some peace and quiet, hid in plain sight. She would sit on the floor and prop herself up against the wall near her terminal – sipping coffee in quiet contemplation. 

Carter would be sitting up on the roof, leaning up against the safety railings and letting her legs dangle over the side of the building. Sometimes she would be humming to herself, sometimes she’d just be looking at the sky. 

Maybe it was still the guilt nagging him from earlier, or maybe it was because Haylen and Rhys were both in the clinic, but something drew Danse up the stairs to join Carter. He didn’t really care to stay inside and read over Walker’s shoulder while he filed his report, anyway. Just looking at him was enough to grate at his nerves at the moment. 

He didn’t go forth without a peace offering, though, something to compensate for his intrusion on her personal space. For Haylen it would have been bubblegum, for Rhys, a beer – Gwinnett ale, if he could find it. He had no idea what Carter liked, so he brought some Fancy Lads Snack Cakes from his personal stash. If he liked them, maybe she did, too. 

He pulled the door open, and there she was, exactly where he expected to find her, looking up at the night sky.

“Mind if I join you, initiate?”

“Not at all, sir,” she replied.

Danse couldn’t really blame her for the surprise on her face, nor the confusion, nor the…worry? He didn’t make social calls often, he hoped that she wasn’t worried that she was in trouble. 

“This isn’t a formal meeting, I’d just…well, I feel like I need to clear the air.” 

That was probably poor word choice, considering she still looked worried. The floodgates were opened, though, and soon he found himself telling her stories of his own time as an initiate serving under Paladin Krieg. He spoke of the impact he'd had on Danse, his feeling that he was singled out, the wisdom he’d grown into over the years. He also found himself detailing the sorrow he felt when his old sponsor had passed, and he found that talking about it began to ease his conscience. 

“Carter, if it feels like I’m pushing you too hard, it’s because I believe in your potential.” 

“I don’t know what to say, sir. Thank you.” 

“No need to thank me. Anyway, I...trust that you’ll keep this conversation in confidence. Most of that information was of a personal nature, and I’d...well, I’d like to keep it that way.” 

His request was met with a warm smile and a pinky being held out to him. He remembered that oath she’d taught him earlier, the pinky swear. He returned both the smile and gesture, feeling at ease for the first time since he left to find them all.

“There, your secret’s safe with me. You know, Danse...if you ever need to talk to anyone...” she assured, “well, you know where I hang out.” 

“I may just have to take you up on that. Oh.” He’d completely forgotten about his olive branch. He felt a bit of shame that he’d just confided so much to her without it, and pulled the box from beside him to make his offer. “Do you like snack cakes, Carter?” 

“Who doesn’t?” she laughed, “I would love one, Paladin. Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small dose of some righteous authority, and considering snapping Travis like a twig. Poor Travis. 
> 
> Also, I wanted to introduce my headcanon that Danse probably notices the little things about his team. He knows their habits and their likes and dislikes. It’s part of why he went through the trouble of personally supplying Carter with her recon suit – she was running out of creative ways to make a belt for those road leathers from before. 
> 
> Danse’s response time being a little over a minute is more or less based on the average time it takes a fireman to suit up and roll out, give or take a few seconds because of system loading times for the suit(thanks, google!).


	13. Potency

The team returned to the station somewhere around 22 or maybe 2300 hours or so, give or take an hour. Frankly, Haylen wasn’t occupied with the clock so much as she was with treating her patients, especially Jackson. 

Jackson had sustained serious head trauma and was still exhibiting symptoms, including nausea and disorientation. She’d be camping here in the clinic tonight, making sure there were no signs of brain swelling. A properly placed stimpak should help negate most of that, but only time would tell, and her and Johnson would need to keep an eye on the knight for a few days. 

Morgan had left the clinic a while ago with a salute and a “thank you kindly, Haylen” after having his wound checked. His injury was successfully treated in the field, only needing a quick follow up before he took off and passed out in the first empty cot he found. 

Rhys, however, was still hanging around - parked on the unoccupied bed with his arm sling and beginning to get loopy from the med-x she’d administered for his shoulder pain. 

“HAY-len. _Haylen,” _ he hissed in a pretty rough attempt at a whisper. 

“Use your inside voice, big guy. You’re not the only one that’s injured.” 

“Oh. Right.” The poor man looked pitiful, dejected even, like she’d just slapped him across the face when all she did was ask him to keep it down. At least if she was going to have to pull an all-nighter, it was going to be entertaining, and she wasn’t likely to let him live the night down. 

Still...his lip was jutted out in a pout, for God’s sake. 

“What’s wrong, Rhys?” 

“I owe you caps but I can’t ‘member where I stashed ‘em.” 

“You owe me caps? For _what _?” 

“Because I said Carter sucks and you said Carter doesn’t suck and then we made that bet and then I was wrong because we were definitely gonna die and then you guys saved us like...like...” 

Haylen had to stifle her own giggle at his rambling. It didn’t surprise her that it took some serious narcotics to get him to admit that he was wrong. Oh, she was going to savor this. 

“We saved you like what? Angels?” She’d remembered what the guards from the city were saying and couldn’t help herself. That part of the day had been pretty great, anyway. 

“No, something more badass. Like Elder Maxson fighting deathclaws, but prettier.” 

“Uh...thank you?” 

He gave her a self-satisfied nod and replied “you’re welcome.” The matter-of-factness with which he delivered his statement nearly made her lose it since he’d been babbling incoherently only moments before. She thought she might have to kick him out and tuck him in elsewhere, for Jackson’s sake, but he was subdued for now. With the room returning to quiet, Haylen cracked open a new pack of bubblegum and got to work filling out her medical reports. 

“Hayl-mmmm. When ammi gonna be sober mmm’gain?” Hah! He was starting to slur. This was just too good. 

“Five or six hours or so. Why? I don’t think you’re ready for another dose of the good stuff yet.” 

“Gotta talk t’you. Verrrrrrry impor-tant.” 

“When you’re sober?” 

“Yep.” 

“About?” 

“Yep.” 

“_About?”_

_"Yes. Shh."_

Oh, man, she was losing him; the drugs were causing him to nod off while he was still sitting up. Oh, well. He’d get a crick in his neck if she let him sleep that way, so she did decide to help lay him down and tuck him in. Only because he needed his arm propped up, and because he was Rhys. The rest of them could tuck their damn selves in. It also didn’t hurt that he wouldn’t remember it in the morning. 

She could almost swear she heard him whisper something about pie when he clutched a pillow to his chest. This batch of med-x must have been especially potent. 

0300 hours rolled around. Was it 0300 hours? It felt like she’d been awake for an entire day. Night shift sucks - it’s boring and you can’t do any work because you might wake up the sick people, and when the sick people are awake, you’re cleaning up after them. 

0400 hours, Haylen was having trouble finding things to do aside from checking on Jackson periodically – code for every five minutes. She was practically breathing down his neck. She needed caffeine or a Grognak or _something._ Danse was asleep for once, which meant she couldn’t bug him to borrow that ratty old book he’d read a thousand times. 

And another thing – _Jackson snores. LOUD._ It was grating at whatever nerves she still had. 

“Haylen?_ oh, __sh _ _ -” _ Rhys winced in pain as he knocked his shoulder against the wall. The knight had probably gotten woken up by Jackson’s snoring, which was funny, considering Rhys was the one she was chastising hours ago for being loud. 

“You know, for someone that likes to play the tough guy, you have a remarkably low tolerance for pain.” 

She may have been teasing, but her voice came across too flat when she hadn’t meant for it to. She got grouchy when she stayed up too late – she'd always been more the “early to bed, early to rise” type, and that wasn’t Rhys’s fault. 

“Do you...want some more meds?” 

“Nah, I’m good. I wanted to sober up, remember?” 

“I do, actually. I can’t believe _you _remember that.” 

“I don’t remember everything, but I remember that because I wanted to talk to you before you doped me up. I'm pretty sure I was busy making an ass of myself, though.” 

“Well, you’re sober now, so what were you wanting to tell me?” 

By the way he was narrowing his eyes and sizing her up, she gathered that she’d been too sharp again. 

“Switch off with Johnson and take a nap first. Then if you’re lucky...” 

That wasn’t fair. 

“Knight, you said it was important,” Well, ‘said’ was generous, he was just about out of it at that point. “You _slurred _it, anyway. Very pointedly.” 

“Do you have any idea how cute you are when you’re trying to get mad?” 

She had nothing. Game, set, match – she was left grasping for a comeback and had no options because he was playing nice and calling her cute,_ plus_ she was tired and her brain was moving slow. She hated that he wasn’t giving in, he almost always gave in with her. 

“Fine. I’ll go switch with Johnson. Then you’re telling me.” 

* * *

Sometimes, Rhys wasn’t sure if Haylen had a patient bone in her body. She wanted to call_ him _impulsive just because he had an attitude? No way, this woman was all emotion, all of the time. She slept for a whole, what, three hours before she was back up and bugging him again? At least she wasn’t grouchy anymore. 

Amazing what a couple of minutes of sleep and some caffeine could do for the girl. 

“Rhys, where are we going?” 

“You’ll see.” 

“Oh, for the love of – why won’t you tell me anything? I hate surprises.” 

Rhys didn’t blame her, surprises in the wasteland were seldom a good thing. Usually it meant something creepy or dangerous popping up out of nowhere and killing you, and what didn’t kill you would give you a heart attack and at least knock a couple of hours off of your life span. 

Still, this would be worth it if she could hold her damn horses. 

Hopefully. 

They weren’t going _far_, no one was authorized to leave Cambridge, anyway, and he wasn’t dumb enough to go anywhere dangerous while his arm was in a sling. 

‘Sides, half the personnel were down and nobody was going to get shit done until at least tomorrow besides keeping watch. So, he just kind of took Haylen and... snuck off. They had a couple hours before they had to do anything anyway, and Top trusted him. 

He was pretty sure that he trusted him...

Okay, maybe he should have officially cleared this trip with Danse. Oh, who cares, at least Rhys brought a distress pulser. Can’t be too careful after last night’s fiasco. 

“Knight.” 

“Scribe.” 

“Why are we at Cambridge Polymer Labs?” 

“Because I thought you might want to get first dibs over the other scribes. Besides, we already cleared it.” 

What was that old-world saying? “Like a kid in a candy store.” That’s what Haylen was like, bouncing from room to room with unbridled joy - and they hadn’t even hit the lab yet. 

“_Rhys, they assisted with Liberty Prime! _” 

So, sounds like she found that slideshow thing that the robot showed them. She probably would have liked its presentation - too bad it offed itself before she could hear it blab on. 

“I know!” he called back to her, laughing as she bounced back into the reception area. She tugged at the sleeve of his uninjured arm to drag him along with her. He wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic about this as she was, and was apparently not fast enough for her. 

“So, is this _the_ clean room?” she asked, a playful sparkle in her eye. He laughed again. 

“What, where Carter lost her shit? Yeah. She tell you about that?” 

“Yes, she told me. I’m a lot nicer than_ you _are. Anyway, lost her shit? She didn’t make it sound nearly that dramatic.” 

“Nah, I guess it wasn’t. Probably still would have gone over Top’s head even if it was dramatic, though. Hell, he was the one that _made _it all dramatic, damn near dragging her to you. Rad poisoning...” 

“You can say that again.” 

“Rad poisoning.” 

“No, you dork,” she laughed. Man, he loved that laugh. 

“_Rad poisoning.” _

There it was. She was losing it, having to brace herself against him as she tried, and failed, to contain her fit of giggles. 

“So, we just going to stand here in a clean room, or do you want to go nerd out?” 

“Yes, _please!” _

He spent a fair amount of time hanging back and just watching her do her thing. He didn’t mind though, he’d managed to make her happy, so that counted for something. Her excitement was cute, anyway, even when she was babbling on about experiments that he usually wouldn’t have any interest in. He couldn’t help but be interested with the way she went on. 

“You know what, Knight? I take back what I said about hating surprises. You can surprise me any time you want to.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Hell yeah!” 

“Alright then. I love you, Scribe Haylen.” 

That sure as hell surprised her. Her face went through a flurry of emotions before she settled on...anger. Damnit. 

“That’s not funny, Knight.” 

Shit, she thought he was _joking? _ How’d he even fuck up the delivery? There was nothing subtle about ‘I love you Haylen.’ 

“I’m not joking, Haylen. I love you.” 

She _still _didn’t look like she trusted what he was saying. _She _was the one that was talking about feelings first, and that was forever ago! Jesus he was going to have to spell this out, which made him roll his eyes. 

Well, he did fuck _that _up, the eye roll didn’t help his cause, because she was scowling at him now and had her arms folded across her chest. Christ. 

“Look, you stubborn frickin' - _I love you, _okay?” He moved forward to close the gap between them, standing toe to toe with her while she started to let her scowl waver a bit. 

“I love the way you scrunch up your nose when you’re pissed at me, I love the way you’re loyal to the squad, I love the way you bounce around and nerd out over this crap,” he said, gesturing to all of the equipment around them. 

As far as confessions go, he was fucking up hard, so he may as well go all in with the caps, right? 

“You’re a fiery ball of sarcasm and wit and so much goddamn _emotion. And you’re beautiful _and I love it all. Even when you’re being _fucking stubborn.” _

Well, he lost his bet, he guessed, and now he felt stupid. Maybe they should just head back. He started to turn away when she pulled his sleeve back, pulled him back to her. 

“Well it took you long enough, didn’t it?” 

“I guess. Denial’s a hell of a thing, huh?” 

She shook her head and pulled him down to her by the strap on his suit. 

“Just shut up and kiss me.” 

He did exactly that, shut up and kissed her, and damn was it something else. He’d brought her here trying to be sweet, not expecting it to be so fiery – knocking into tables, knocking over chairs, lighting the whole room ablaze until he finally got her pinned up against a wall where he could keep her still. 

And then he bumped his damn shoulder again because he wasn’t paying attention. _Ow._

_ “Damnit, _Rhys, why’d you have to wait to hurt yourself before you said something,” she whined. 

_ Oh. That’s what she wants? _ That caused him to grin into another kiss. 

_ “ _Be patient, doc. We got time. It isn’t like we’re being reassigned any time soon.” 

“I guess you’re right.” 

“You know I’m right.” 

Sweet kisses, slower kisses, replaced the all-consuming fire that had almost burned the place down. 

“We should get back,” he whispered, not even sure what time it was anymore. 

“We should get back,” she repeated. Neither of them really wanted to break apart. He should have said something earlier, but he could be content with one last kiss for now. _ They had time. _

Maybe he’d died last night after all, and this was heaven. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was time for these two, in part because we depart for the Prydwen soon and their POV's are going to be tapering off. Also, in part because we're 13 little baby chapters in and I wanted to frickin deliver something.
> 
> So, enjoy copious amounts of banter and drugged up Rhys.
> 
> I know exactly which "ratty old book" that grouchy, sleep-deprived Haylen wants to borrow. Groundwork, baby.


	14. Truce

_ Breathe in. _

_ Reload. Feel the tension of the release lever, feel the click when the new cartridge __locks __in place, look up. _

_ Breathe out. _

_ Aim – crotch, cranium, center mass. Fire - listen to the hum of the projectile, watch it connect. _

_ Another ghoul down. _

Diana felt sick, thinking about the ghouls from earlier was freaking her the hell out. 

The woman found herself up on the roof of Cambridge Police Station fairly often. It was peaceful – she could sit there for hours feeling the cold December air turn to ice in her lungs while she marveled at the night sky. Say what you will about the rest of the wasteland, but the view at night really couldn’t be beat, and the roof gave her the best vantage point. 

She found that if she was busy being in awe of the sky, she wasn’t occupying her mind with other things – regret and confusion being the foremost of them. 

Plus, Ashton was up here half of the time doing whatever it is lancers are supposed to do with their vertibirds, and he was decent enough company. 

“Ain’t you gettin' a little cold up here, Diana?” 

_ Yes._

“Nah, I’m fine.” 

“Woman, I can hear your teeth chatterin’ from over here.” 

An old bomber jacket came flying across the roof from the direction of Ashton’s vertibird, smacking her in the back of the head. 

“_Great_ aim there, chief, gotta love getting taken out by laundry. Hey, don’t you need this?” 

“Har-har. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again – you're a shit liar. I can’t even see your face and I know you’re cold. And no.” he popped his head out of the ‘bird, revealing that he already had a jacket on. “Anyway, what’re you singin’ this time?” 

She hadn’t even noticed that she’d been doing it, and she had to pause and think for a second. What in the hell_ was _it? Right. 

“It’s called _Sea of Heartbreak.” _

_ “Sea of Heartbreak, _huh? Sounds lonesome.” 

“Mmm, it is kind of lonesome, I guess,” she mused, shrugging into the worn old jacket. She’d spent the better part of an hour trying to drown her feelings from her mission in starlight, which must not have worked given her choice of song. With the revelation, Diana soon found herself tracing over the scar on her palm in an attempt to concentrate on lost memories of a past life – only fueling the nagging in the back of her mind. 

“Long day?” 

“Kind of. I think I need to go talk to Danse...” 

“Damn, so bad you gotta go clear the ol’ conscience with the Paladin, huh? You really must have had a long day.” 

_ Yeah, pretty much. _If Diana was being honest with herself, it only felt like a lonesome kind of evening because she’d _made _it lonesome by dwelling on her mission, as well as other things she couldn’t control. The nice thing about hanging out on the roof where Ashton usually was, though, was that after the other day, he’d figured out when to shut up and leave her alone. 

“Well, I s’pose I’ll leave you to it then, miss Diana,” he said, and skipped off into the station – probably to try and outdrink Broussard. Rodriguez had some secret bet going on down there to see who could keep down the most shots of vodka down, and so far, it was Amelie. 

That left her to her thoughts, again, and that twinge of regret poked at her chest. 

_ “Hey, Carter. Get your ass over here. I’ve got something for you.” _

_ “Yes, sir!” she piped up. _

Knight Rhys’d had an assignment for her, which had been music to her ears. The op was short, since it had to be close – they were to leave for the Prydwen in the morning. 

Still, it was a welcome change from the routine she’d settled into: Wake up early, shadowbox with Rhys (who would just coach since his arm was still jacked). Then whatever PT was scheduled and assignment briefings. This usually meant that she’d be stationed in the same spot on the barricade for a few hours. There wasn’t much of a view from the barricade – just the same tired old buildings that you couldn’t see past. Sometimes, to spice things up, she’d even stand on the _other side_ of the barricades. 

Today, though, her assignment had been to clear a place called Union’s Hope Cathedral. It wasn’t supposed to be crawling with tons of beasties or anything, it was just supposed to have a few ferals around the cemetery outside, maybe a couple inside too. An easy one-woman job with the goal to strengthen the Brotherhood’s foothold in the area. 

The op had gone fine, though, right? She was here on the roof, wasn’t she? 

It was just an easy, one-woman job, so... why was it bothering her so much? 

She didn’t have time for any more isolation and self-reflection, though, because the skies were beginning to glow a sickly green off in the distance. An unsettling electric charge clung to the air, giving it a smell similar to the ozone of energy weapon fire mixed with the acrid aftermath of acid rain. She’d learned to stay out of a radstorm the hard way already - it was time to go inside. 

Diana had barely cleared the bottom step on the stairwell when Knight Rodriguez popped out of the shadows. She was so easy to scare that her soul had nearly left her body when she jumped. 

“Ah! Carter! Didn’t mean to frighten you. Would you care to join in on the fun this evening? Odds are against Broussard on this one - Howe has intel that Morgan can keep up with Elder Maxson.” 

She had been right, Morgan had come in here to throw down the gauntlet, and Rodriguez’s enthusiasm made her laugh. 

“I don’t even know what your bit about Maxson means, Emilio. Does he drink a lot or something?” 

“You’ll see, you’ll see. Morgan is your friend though, isn’t he? The buy-in is only a few caps...” 

“Broussard’s my friend, too. I can’t stick around, but put me down for Amelie.” 

“Your funeral, sister. Go, do whatever it is you need to do. You can come pay up after.” 

Well, her plan had been to report Paladin Danse -_ if she could find him _. After sharing snack cakes the other night, he’d become a lot more approachable, and, well...there was that guilt. She’d rather seek guidance from someone with a level head than some of her more hot-blooded, and soon-to-be plastered, compatriots. 

Diana had no idea where to look for him though, so she wandered through the station room-by-room for a few minutes. Not in the interrogation room, not passed out in a cot, definitely not anywhere near the drinking crowd. 

And – aww, not in the clinic, where Rhys and Haylen seemed to be having a moment while she checked his shoulder. 

Maybe Rhys wasn’t a damned fairy-tale-ruiner after all, which made Diana happy for her friend. 

Well, it looked like Howe had won that particular bet about the two, but Diana sure as shit wasn’t going to tell anyone because what was going on in there was nobody’s business. Diana Carter wasn’t no snitch. 

Still, she was starting to feel very alone again, even with all that was happening around her, thanks to that nagging that wouldn’t go away. 

“What are you looking for, Carter?” 

Danse wasn’t in the jailroom, either. Instead, a tired-looking Knight-Sergeant Walker was stationed inside, leaning his chair – and his head - back against a wall. His arrogance had been knocked down a peg since the beantown disaster the other night, and he was kind of, well, okay now. More receptive to the junior knights. Maybe he’d learned something from Danse’s speech. 

“I was looking for Paladin Danse, sir.” 

“Try the garage.” 

“Okay. Thank you, sir.” 

He still wasn’t very talkative, which was fine by her. 

Sure enough, Danse was in the garage, stationed at the power armor bay. 

“Shining your armor, sir?” 

“Yeah?” he raised a brow at her, as though what he was doing should be painfully obvious to her. “We should do our best to look respectable with our return to the Prydwen tomorrow.” 

“Oh. Right.” 

She began to chew her lip, looking out of the garage and into Cambridge. That rad storm was getting close... 

“Is something wrong, Carter?” 

Yes. It. Was. Her conscience and anxiety were about to eat her alive and the unease of the radiated electric storm did not help whatsoever. 

_ Breathe out. _

_ Aim – crotch, cranium, center mass, your choice. Fire - listen to the hum of the projectile, watch it connect. _

_ Another ghoul down. _

_ Breathe in, Diana. _

Nothing. 

_ Breathe. IN. _

“I think I murdered someone, Paladin,” she blurted, letting the entire sentence out in one breath, completely unable to contain herself. Coming clean to her commanding officer was almost relieving, for a whole two seconds. She watched his face transform from shock to apprehension, which made her nervous too. 

_ Water, _ _ stimpaks _ _ , ammo – check. _

She hated herself for checking her pockets, there was no reason for her to even be doing it while she was off duty. 

“Close the door, Carter. If I end up having to issue a reprimand, it’s not going to be for the entire station to hear.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

She clicked the door shut behind her while her heart pounded in her chest. The paladin crossed the room, heaving his own sigh as he closed the outer garage door and severed the connection to the danger that was about to hit from the outside. 

“Explain yourself, initiate.” 

Where did she begin? 

“Are some ghouls sentient, sir?” 

“That’s not an explanation, Carter, but yes. Not all ghouls are feral.” 

He was right, it wasn’t an explanation at all. 

_ Breathe in, and go. _

Suddenly, she was back outside of the cathedral reloading her rifle, listening to a scream for help coming from the inside. She burst in through the front door, finger on the trigger - 

All she saw were ghouls, and she couldn’t pinpoint the cry for help. There hadn’t been many of them, but they were swarming another ghoul – a ghoul in pastor’s robes, fighting them as though...well, as though he were just...human. She continued to scan for the person in distress as she took down the ghouls, but to her shock, the cry for help had come from him, and when the other ghouls were down he’d turned to her in a blind rage. She made the mistake of hesitating, of lowering her rifle... 

She counted that she’d checked her pockets two more times while she told him about her mission. 

“And so you shot this ghoul in robes?” 

“Well, no...” 

“Then he’s still alive?” 

“No. After I shot the other ghouls, he started to attack me, and -” 

“I’m going to cut you off right there, Carter. It’s not your fault that you didn’t know that not all ghouls are feral, that’s a failure on my part to teach you. I...forget that you’re not accustomed to the wasteland, sometimes. As for the ghoul preacher -” 

Diana braced herself while Danse stood there, gathering his thoughts. He didn’t look worried anymore, at least. 

“Well, you must have a halfway-decent moral compass if you bothered to seek me out. Carter, what you’ve just described is self-defense, not_ murder__. _Don’t bury the lede like that.” 

All of the tension that had built up in her muscles began to release. No, it wasn’t murder – that ghoul came at her with a shotgun, after all, and maybe she knew that and was just seeking validation. Still, it was just...shocking, she guessed, to realize that they weren’t all mindless monsters. And kind of sad, too. 

“Do you feel better, Carter?” 

“Yeah. Thanks.” 

“Not a problem. You listened to me the other night,” Danse shrugged, making his way over towards the weapons bench. “And now you know where _I _‘hang out’, though I suppose that won’t matter tomorrow.” 

“No, I guess not,” Diana kept forgetting about her impending departure, she’d been stationed in Cambridge so long that she’d gotten so used to it. Still, the idea of a new adventure was thrilling. 

“Don’t worry, soldier. I’m still fairly easy to find aboard the Prydwen.” 

“What’s the Prydwen like?” 

Danse didn’t really smile often, but his eyes lit up at the mention of the Brotherhood airship. 

“She’s magnificent, Carter, you’ll get to see up close tomorrow - she’s a true testament to the superiority of Brotherhood engineering... It just goes to show that with a little perseverance, we can do anything we set our minds to.” 

Yeah, if he was passionate about anything, it was definitely the Brotherhood of Steel and their mission in the Commonwealth. The way he talked about it while he worked was inspiring, maybe even enchanting. It almost made him seem... 

“What is it, Carter?” 

“Nothing, sir. You just seemed kind of like a normal person there.” 

Right, yeah. This wasn’t Ashton or Haylen or Amelie, Danse was several ranks above her. Time to get in trouble for decorum... 

Danse let out a chuckle. “You know, I think people forget that I’m human, sometimes. I suppose it doesn’t help that I’m usually so busy being a Paladin that I forget it, myself.” 

She watched in contented silence as he worked to maintain his weapon, tweaking here and there, cleaning it...maybe she should be doing the same with hers. Come to think of it, she’d only even bothered to try once. 

“Sir?” 

“Yeah?” 

“How do you do that?” 

“Do what?” 

“Uh...clean the...” 

She was never going to let anyone accuse Paladin Danse of being inhuman again. In the brief time they’d been together in the garage, she’d gotten to see several emotions cross his face, and he nearly broke his neck whipping around to give her a bewildered look. 

“Carter, I gave that to you over_ a month ago. _” 

“Um...” 

“You mean to tell me thatyou haven’t maintained your weapon? _For a whole month?!” _

Nope. It wasn’t that she thought she murdered someone, or the joke she’d made about his usual stoicism that got her in trouble. Instead, he was huffing at her because she didn’t know how to field-strip a laser rifle. 

“Give it here, Carter.” 

She obeyed wordlessly, and he set to work inspecting the rifle, grumbling to himself all the while about the trigger sticking and something about a “filthy cartridge release”. 

“Sir...” 

“What?” he asked flatly. 

“With respect, sir, I can’t really learn how to do it if you’re doing it yourself.” 

Diana had a point, and Danse caved, still profoundly irked. 

“Well then get over here so I can show you.” 

He still wouldn’t give up the rifle though, not without holding out his pinky. 

“An angry pinky swear, sir?” 

“I don’t know, Carter. The pinky thing is_ your_ thing, but you said the promise was unbreakable and _it_ seems to mean something to you, unlike the rifle that I personally_ named and modified _. If I give this back to you, you do this at least twice a week. Understood?” 

“Affirmative, sir.” 

“Well then, Carter, do the damn pinky swear!” 

It took some time, and a whole lot of grumbling coming from her C.O., but after it was properly cleaned and the process had been drilled into her head, he wasn’t as angry anymore. She couldn’t help that curiosity had also gotten the best of her. 

“Paladin Danse?” 

“Yes, Carter?” 

“What’s the rifle’s name?” 

“Out of the whole lesson, that’s what stuck with you?” Her slight hadn’t been forgiven quite yet, it would seem. 

“Well...” 

“Righteous Authority. It’s your rifle now though, so...” 

“No, Righteous Authority is good. I’m sorry that I didn’t take good care of it, I clearly just don’t know what the hell I’m doing, energy weapons and what I had before are so different... The thought had never occurred...” 

“Like I said, I often forget that you’re not from around here.” 

Whether the man chose to believe it or not, the gift had meant quite a bit to her. It was the first thing out here in the wasteland that had really felt like it was _hers. _The road leathers had been borrowed from a dead guy, and the vault suit she’d stripped from when she stumbled into the wasteland had made her feel like she was masquerading as someone else – it made her skin crawl to wear it and never would have felt like it belonged to her. The pip-boy she’d found didn’t even feel like it should be hers, though she wasn’t stupid enough to throw a resource like that away. 

“Thank you, Danse.” 

“For?” 

“Everything.” 

He mulled what she was saying over for a minute, finally easing back out of paladin mode. 

“You’re welcome, Diana.” 

Diana, huh? That sounded kind of weird coming from _him_, but she’d take it. 

“Why don’t you go get some sleep, Carter. I’m sure you’re eager to see who won the bet, anyway.” 

“You know about the bet?” 

“I wasn’t born yesterday. I know how bored soldiers spend their time.” 

“Hmm. Who would you have bet on?” 

“Morgan, there’s no way that Broussard should be able to metabolize that much alcohol so quickly. Who did you put caps on? Don’t say that you didn’t, either.” 

“Broussard.” 

“You’d bettered report the results to me after you’ve found out, then.” 

Was this his way of calling a truce? Maybe all was forgiven, after all. 

“Yes, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damnit, “lede” is a word and it’s the way I learned the phrase. It is interchangeable with “lead” though, so they’re both right.  
Anyhow back to business.  
We've timeskipped a few days, hopefully I did okay conveying that. Lots of Danse & Diana hanging out, gotta lay that groundwork too. This is inspired by my own foray into that stupid cathedral and Father Gabe is like "hey thanks for saving me NOW LETS FUCKIN' RUMBLE"
> 
> Knight Rodriguez facilitates the bets. He keeps a logbook for long-term bets, as well as other silly bets like the vodka one. 
> 
> All 5’1”(and a half!) of Knight Broussard will drink you under the table. You don’t mess with Amelie Broussard. 
> 
> If Danse takes it personally when you’re rude to him about accepting Righteous Authority in-game, he would absolutely take it personally if you were neglecting it. I guess you're supposed to clean and maintain your weapon every 250 rounds or so? I don't know, so I googled it and that was the general consensus, but it depends on how much you're shooting, plus energy weapons are probably kind of different...so...that's how i came up with a bi-weekly maintenance schedule but if anyone else has some insights, i'm all ears.
> 
> Am I pushing pinky swears too hard? Meh. Nah. Especially if Danse doesn't quite get them yet. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> Let’s talk Sea of Heartbreak a sec. It’s from the 60s, originally done by Don Gibson. There are several, and I mean SEVERAL, versions of this song out there. 
> 
> Gibson, Johnny Cash, Rosanne Cash, even more than that, so take your pick if you care to. The lyrics are what I love about it.


	15. Daydreamers

_ “__Psst__, Ashton,” _came a whisper late into the night,_“here’s your jacket back.” _

The lancer’s brain was still a little slow on the uptake, he had to open one drowsy eye to see who was talking to him. He should’ve figured by the way she was comfortable enough to sit herself down on the bed right next to him, but he could still feel the heaviness from the alcohol all the way down to his bones. _Diana. _

_ “__Mmph__. _You clear your conscience with the Paladin?” 

“Mmm, yeah. You win your battle with Broussard?” 

“Not even close. Knight Broussard’ll drink ya under the table, and _still _finish off the rest of the handle after you’re out.” 

_ “Yes.” _

_ Yes? Aw hell no. _

“Woman, did you bet against me?” 

“Noooo, I would _never...” _

“The_ audacity.._.” He managed a slow laugh, though he paid for it with a pounding head. “Keep the jacket, it ain’t like it fits me anymore, anyway. Now _go on, _get outta here. You’re whisperin’ too loud.” 

Good thing it was just vodka, and not that moonshine Broussard was talking about. Otherwise, he’d be on his deathbed. 

* * *

At precisely 0558, the tiniest rap could be heard on the outside of his door. 

_ She’s early today. _

Arthur Maxson rolled out of his bunk and into his boots, rubbing the sleep from his face before anyone else onboard the ship could catch him. Being the Elder meant being a morning person, no matter what kind of fight his body put up every morning in protest. He plucked his battlecoat from its place on the back of the nearest chair, giving it a good shake to be sure that no wrinkles had formed in the night before he put it on. 

“Come in, Lily.” 

She was quick and quiet, shutting the door behind her in scarcely a whisper. 

“You’d make a good assassin,” he observed. 

The youngest member of the Brotherhood shook her head before laying his morning report out for him on the table – along with a glass of water, which meant that Cade had stopped her on the way here. She stood at attention dutifully, more composed than even some of his seasoned knights, waiting for a dismissal. 

“Well good, that’s not how the Brotherhood operates. If not an assassin, what are you today?” 

“A field scribe, sir,” the tiny voice piped up. She was something new every time he asked, some days a knight, some days a lancer, and today she had chosen field scribe. 

“Hmm, I see. Well then, Scribe Lily, thank you. You’re dismissed.” 

Elizabeth, better known as Lily, was only 7 years old. Not quite old enough to be a real squire yet, although she had more tact than most of the squires did. He supposed that her diligence came from loss though – her parents had both died in battle months before, and the whole of the airship had more or less come together and all adopted her in their honor. 

Between the proctors, the Lancer-Captain, Knight-Captain Cade, and himself, she always had an errand to run and someone to turn to. 

He had to admit that he saw a hint of his younger self in the way she carried on, although Lily probably had better posture than he did at her age. The thought amused him; he couldn’t even properly tie a tie when he was a squire. He resolved that if he ever found her trying to befriend Liberty Prime once they got it rebuilt, he would name her his successor then and there – elder council be damned. 

Well, anyway, it was time to review his reports and his speech, and he decided that he would do so with the radio going softly in the background, hopefully tuned to a news segment. He half expected old music and a timid DJ, but he’d gotten his wish, and the news snippet stirred his curiosity - 

“_Well, folks, you’ve all heard the whispers going around the city by now _

_ As you are well aware, the Brotherhood of Steel has taken up residence here in the Commonwealth, and a few days ago a small group of their fiercest, and dare I say finest, ladies paid us a visit. _

_ Some say they rode into Boston on the back of a __deathclaw _ _ \- _

_ Others that they took down a mutant behemoth with their bare hands - _

_ Well, folks, we all know that you have to take what Diamond City’s Finest say with a grain of salt, but what I can confirm is that, by all accounts, they did help defend the city gates from a horde of super mutants. Hell, they even saved some of our guards in the process. _

_ After being fortunate enough to meet these lovely ladies myself, they agreed to lend me a hand in my rescue of one Vadim __Bobrov__, and let’s just say that the time I spent with them really changed my perspective on some things. _

_ So as far as my personal beliefs go? _

_ Well, believe what you want about the organization, but my favorite variation of the story is that these three lovely ladies were angels, flown here on the wings of _ _ vertibirds _ _ , and I can only hope to cross paths with them again. _

_ Anyway, I’m sure you’re tired of my sentimentality by now, so we’ll get on back to the music. _

_ Here’s Pistol __Packin'__ Mama, by...” _

Danse and Walker’s report sure as hell didn’t mention this, and it was far more interesting than any ad campaign he would have come up with. 

Rumors of riding in on a deathclaw? There was certain to be an uptick in enlistments thanks to that. Even though the story had clearly been wildly over-exaggerated, his job was now slightly easier and he wanted the report. He had an initiate to meet. 

* * *

A few hours and what felt like gallons of water later, Ashton was just about set to fly. He’d let himself sleep later than usual, waking up around the same time as the rest of the station – just this once since he’d drunk himself into a stupor. He didn’t have much choice but to sleep, it’d be awful hard to fly if he was still seein’ double of everything. 

He still had to do one last check to make sure the rotors on his ‘bird hadn’t iced over. He’d already done preventive maintenance on that the night before, but you couldn’t be too careful. Everything checked out fine, though, radstorm and all. He just needed to slide on down the outside of the cabin... 

Oh, yeah. Green lights across the board, baby! Damn did it feel good to be back in the cockpit, he’d been grounded for too long. Now all he needed was for his cargo to hurry up and they were due any minute. Speakin’ of which, there they were. 

Paladin Danse was holding the roof access open for Diana, blatherin’ on about “flying in style” or something. Poor girl, Danse sure was long-winded when the occasion called for it. 

“How’s everything looking, Lancer?” 

“All systems’re nominal. I reckon we’re ready when y’all are.” 

“Roger that, lancer. So, Carter, you ready to move out? If you like the roof, you’re going to love this.” 

“Affirmative, sir!” 

_ Someone sure sounds excited to get airborne. _

“Outstanding. Let’s ride.” 

Morgan turned to help Diana up into the ‘bird, but the paladin had already beat him to it. Shoot, he already had her stationed on the minigun, goin’ over how to operate it and all. 

Hanging around in Cambridge was alright and everything, but he’d flown maybe twice in the last couple of weeks and he missed it. He did manage to get in on a hell of a lot of action though, and had plenty of stories for Peter. 

* * *

“Remember, squires, if you see any unusual activity, report it immediately. Understood?” 

“Sir, yes, sir!” 

“Alright, dismissed! Squire Morgan…” 

“Yes, sir?” 

“You don’t have to report to your post today, your brother should be docking any time now.” 

Twelve-year-old Peter Morgan complemented his older brother in many ways. Where Ashton was boisterous and outgoing, Peter was more even-keeled and reserved. Ashton had gotten the chestnut brown hair of their mother, and Peter the cooler, darker tones of their father. They weren’t without similarities though, they shared freckles, they shared hazel eyes, and they shared a heck of a work ethic. 

“With respect, sir, I'm nearly grown. I can pull my weight.” 

The knight-captain in charge chuckled at Peter’s comment. “You know, kid, you’ll make a hell of a lancer one of these days.” 

“Actually, sir, I hope to be doing recon as a Knight. Maybe even a Paladin…someday.” 

“A knight, huh? What does Lancer Morgan think of that?” 

_ He thinks I’m nuts. _

“He tells me I’m going to get myself killed, but, well, if I die...” Peter thought about it a second. Ashton would be sad, but it’s not like being a lancer was really any less dangerous, “I’ll die with honor, protecting my brothers and sisters.” 

“That’s very admirable, squire. Your post is already covered, though, so get on out of here and go see your brother, would you? We both know he’ll just bug you at your post anyway if you don’t.” 

_ Well, that’s true_. Ash would absolutely bug him, and his brother probably had a lot to talk about - this was the longest the two had ever been apart. And then he could ask his brother about Paladin Danse! A paladin doing long range recon...that was exactly what Peter wanted to do one day. 

_ So cool. _

For now, maybe he could go see if Proctor Ingram needed any help around the service bay while he waited. He could hang around and reorganize the tools or something. As long as he wasn’t underfoot, she never minded. 

* * *

Heaven’s above, forget what Ashton was thinkin’ about Danse being long-winded earlier, he clearly hadn’t seen anything yet. The man kept to himself most of the time unless he was addressing you, but when he had something to say... 

Well, let’s just say he managed to talk to Carter about Brotherhood philosophy all the way from the police station to the airship, and if Ashton hadn’t have known any better, he’d have guessed that he’d spent the night writing a speech or something. That had to have been an awful lot of words, and some of them words were long. 

Lord have mercy. 

The pair trailed off to meet Kells on the deck while Ashton went over his shutdown-and-docking checklist. He was sure that the Lancer-Captain would be giving Diana the third degree, as was custom. 

With his checklist complete, he dusted off his gloves and went on to meet up with the Lancer-Captain, too. The way Kells inspected him when he asked for permission to come aboard sure brought him back... 

_ “Initiate Morgan reporting for duty, sir!” _

A sixteen-year-old Ashton Morgan stood in front of an unimpressed Kells, who had ordered the boy to report at 0200 hours, just to test the kid’s resolve. Nothing was going to stop him from becoming a Brotherhood lancer though, he didn’t have much else to lose. He wanted to fly the first time that he’d seen a vertibird, after him and Peter crossed into the Capital wasteland. 

Kells had been very vocal about his reservations about the boy. He was a wastelander, an orphan, and only a child as far as Kells was concerned. Normally, Kells didn’t want to take on youngsters - half of them boys were reckless and immature and those traits meant wrecked vertibirds that he wasn’t willing to spare. 

The Lancer-Captain quieted down though, when a very young Arthur Maxson crossed his arms and demanded to know what was wrong with being young and ambitious. Maxson himself was fifteen at the time, almost sixteen, and soon to formally assume the title of Elder. Morgan had been wide eyed at the exchange, surprised at the way that Maxson could command respect. 

So, Kells took Morgan in, albeit begrudgingly, and here they were about half a decade later. That sure didn’t mean that he hadn’t put Morgan through the ringer, though. 

“Morgan! Wipe that smug look off of your face and get out of here.” 

Kells sure didn’t sugar coat anything, did he? He was a damn fine officer though, so long as you kept your trap shut and did as you were told. 

“Will do, sir.” 

_ Never change, _ _Kells_ _._

* * *

_ Wow! _

There were so many soldiers reporting to the command deck to be debriefed! And Squire Matthew Williams was lucky enough to be posted just outside of it, today. 

He was going to get to listen to Elder Maxson’s speech and everything. Williams had to contain himself though. He’d already gotten in trouble once today for inattention. You just have to keep your face as solid as steel and look forward. If he couldn’t handle that, they’d kick him out, and if he got kicked out he couldn’t tell Petey and Lily about it. 

There were knights with spotless power armor, lancers with those cool jackets and helmets. Ooh and some field scribes! Those guys probably got to see lots of cool things out in the wasteland. 

_ It’s like a parade of awesome! _

By some miracle, Williams managed to keep his cool throughout the debriefing. He decided that if he ever saw a synth, he would take it out himself. He’d heard stories – synths were made out of metal, emotionless, horrifying creatures that snatched up young squires in the night and - 

“Hello there, Williams.” 

“Oh, hello sir! Nothing to report.” 

“Great work, squire - we count on youngsters like you to carry the future of the Brotherhood. Keep it up.” 

_ Oh man, Paladin Danse. Peter’s __gonna __flip. _

Squire Williams let his imagination run wild while Paladin Danse and some new lady spoke with Elder Maxson inside. The Paladin had a scar over his eye, he wondered if he’d gotten it the same way that Elder Maxson had gotten his...or maybe he’d fought a behemoth once? Or the synths! No...that scar was kinda faded, it probably wasn’t new. Who knows, there were tons of things that could happen out there in the field. 

Man, oh man did he want to get in on the action someday, too. Okay he had to try to focus again, though. For Lily and Peter. 

_ “You mean to tell me that the ad campaign featuring your Knight and two others riding in to Boston on a __deathclaw__ was an accident?” _

Williams’s jaw nearly hit the floor. 

“That lady rode on a deathclaw?!” 

“WILLIAMS! ARE YOU EAVESDROPPING?” 

_ Oops._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I'm sad to be leaving Cambridge behind because I've gotten quite attached to those characters, I am also very excited to move forward with the story as a whole and I wanted to introduce the voyage to the Prydwen through the eyes of just about everyone BUT Danse and Diana.
> 
> And what better way to do that than with the Squire Squad! Feat. Lancer Ashton Morgan and Elder Maxson!
> 
> A LOT of why we get Maxson's POV about Lily rather than an outright Lily POV is because Lily is extremely withdrawn, and doesn't really say much to anyone, which is why he bothers to ask her about her imaginary jobs for the day and stuff. Baby Maxson seemed kind of lonely, and I felt bad when I found out that he got kicked out from visiting Liberty Prime.  
She is kinda everyone's gofer, she delivers the morning reports and shuttles things between the proctors and everyone when she's not learning.  
And I mean we also get that Maxson POV for the radio segment that I was talking about a while back.
> 
> Peter Morgan takes care of Ashton just as much as Ashton takes care of Peter. Peter's more the type to roll his eyes and tuck his older brother in after a long day of getting into trouble (Ashton, not Peter. Peter is a responsible, grown man and never gets in trouble.)
> 
> Matthew Williams is boundless energy and curiosity and excitement, and NO TACT. Which brings Maxson's observations early in the chapter full-circle.
> 
> The squire squad likely won't get a lot of time on their own, but I'm still just stoked about them. And I still have plans to visit our friends in Cambridge in the future, too. I mean it's a brotherhood safe haven pretty close to the middle of the map. It makes SENSE to visit them more!


	16. Tour of Duty

The thought had never occurred to Danse that the terrified civilian from the other night could have proven to be so useful. He also never would have thought that someone like _that _ would consider broadcast journalism as a prospective field of employment, but stranger things have happened. 

Maxson was asking Carter for the details now. It was a stroke of genius by the team, finding and assisting the radio host for arguably the most listened-to station in the Commonwealth. He wished he’d thought - 

“Thank you, Elder, but we had no idea that Travis was the host.” 

_ This was all just dumb luck? The campaign, __beantown__, all of it? _Maybe it wasn’t too much of a stretch, Haylen and Carter both could be a little too compassionate, and Broussard always seemed to be ready for a brawl. Well, he still wished he’d come up with the idea. 

“Paladin, you didn’t instruct them to do any of this?” 

“Not at all, Elder. I’ve often spoken of trying to win the civilians’ trust, but I’ve never given any explicit instruction on what to do.” 

“You mean to tell me that the ad campaign featuring your Knight and two others riding in to Boston on a deathclaw was an accident?” 

“It would seem so.” 

_ “That lady rode a __deathclaw__!?” _

Elder Maxson heaved an irritated sigh, placing his forehead in his hand as he did it. “WILLIAMS! ARE YOU EAVESDROPPING?” 

“_Yes! No?” _ Squire Williams popped his head around the archway that led into the command deck, “Sir, what’s eavesdropping?” 

_ This one has no filter at all, does he? _

“It means you’re listening in to others’ private conversations, and you’re terrible at it. Report back to the main deck, Williams.” 

The child could be heard mumbling “rats" to himself as he scampered off, undoubtedly acting as an informant for some of the other squires on board. 

“Squires,” the Elder muttered, shaking his head. If Danse wasn’t mistaken, he may have seen the quickest flash of amusement cross the man’s face – after all, it hadn’t been so long since Maxson himself was a squire. Whatever Danse may have thought he saw was gone now, though, and it was back to business. 

“In any event, Knight, you and your sisters helped cross something off of our to-do list - intentionally or otherwise. Report to the flight deck after you’ve finished familiarizing yourself with the Prydwen and my staff. And, Knight?” 

“Yes, Elder?” 

“Welcome aboard.” 

_ Knight Carter._ He was pleased that the Elder had listened to his recommendation, and that they were assigned to survey the Commonwealth together in search of more clues that would help them find, and eradicate, the Institute. 

She seemed to have a healthy enough appetite for adventure, maybe she’d be happy about the assignment since they would be traipsing all over the place. First, though, she needed the grand tour. 

The two were scarcely through the hatch leading to the main deck before the paladin found himself being given what could only be described as the dressing down of the century. There was only one aboard the ship that would be so indignant, daring to berate Paladin Danse, of all people. By all accounts, Danse was well liked and highly respected and didn’t deserve any of this.

This didn’t stop the furious meows of Proctor Quinlan's cat, Emmett. He’d forgotten to stop by and tell the cat hello while Carter attended the debriefing, and Emmett liked to hold grudges. Damn cat probably just wanted to investigate his quarters for snacks. Danse felt used. 

“Come find me later, buddy. I don’t have anything for you yet.”

“You have a cat, sir?” Carter asked, doing her best to keep a straight face. 

“No, he belongs to Proctor Quinlan. He and I have a mutual understanding though - I keep him supplied with treats, and he keeps pests away from my quarters.” 

The cat gave a low growl of irritation. “_And, _ ” Danse added, returning the cat’s growl with his own stern look, “he’s decent company when I’m filing reports, _I guess. _” 

The cat stopped yowling, at any rate, but still didn’t seem too happy with what Danse had to say - planting himself directly in the paladin’s path and flicking his tail back and forth the way he always did when he was displeased. Carter, in the meantime, had given in and was laughing at their exchange. 

“Well, pleased to meet you…” she started. 

“My apologies. Emmett, this is Knight Carter – I'll be sponsoring her. Carter, Emmett.” 

Emmett, now satisfied, stalked off in the direction of Quinlan’s quarters. Danse hadn’t really expected that the cat would be the first person – and he may as well be a person – that he would be formally introducing Carter to. His introduction wasn’t as much to humor Carter as it was the cat, as ludicrous as the formalities might have been. The last time Danse slighted Emmett, he got woken up in the middle of the night with half of a dead radroach in his face, and he didn’t care for a repeat of that. 

Who was he kidding? He loved that grouchy bastard, otherwise he wouldn’t keep his door propped open for Emmett to come and go as he pleased when he was posted here. It really did feel good to be back, and now that he’d been yelled at, it felt official. 

He almost even felt at ease. 

“Carter, before we go any further, I feel I should ask – would you rather tour the Prydwen alone?” 

He hoped that she didn’t want to go alone, especially after that heart to heart they’d had about Krieg. Still, sometimes recruits didn’t want their sponsors breathing down their necks, doubly so if that sponsor was a paladin. 

“Paladin Danse, if I go alone, I’m going to get lost.” 

She flashed an apologetic smile, probably worried that she was bothering him or something after he’d gotten irritated with her over the rifle, which wasn’t the case at all. He wasn’t sure why he’d taken it so personally; she’d even been honest enough to admit that she didn’t know what the hell she was doing. 

Truth be told, Danse hadn’t really taken anyone under his wing in some time - for several reasons. He’d been wrong to judge Carter so early, though. Despite having no experience, she was always willing to pick back up and keep going until she got it right. She’d proven it last night while he drilled the weapon maintenance process into her head – and then there were also those “secret” boxing lessons with Rhys. What was that Rhys had said about kicking a puppy a while back? 

At least Danse had been right, and Carter could take it. Maybe he should extend another olive branch. 

“Alright, then. For starters,” he strode over to one of three metal doors nearby, popping it open a few inches for the cat, “these are my quarters. If you need something and can’t find me anywhere else aboard, I’m in here.” The door would probably be open for the cat, anyway. 

Most of the rest of the tour went without a hitch. They’d seen the mess hall, and Neriah's, uh, zoo. They’d met Quinlan, who mistook Carter for someone else, and he’d had to restrain himself from talking shop with Teagan. He had spied some new equipment in the back of the stowage depot that the Proctor had caught him eyeing, but they exchanged a knowing look before continuing on. Danse would be back later. 

For now, she needed some power armor training, and he needed to introduce her to Ingram and see if they even had any available right now. 

Before Danse could even get through the doorframe into the maintenance bay, Lancer Morgan had swooped in out of nowhere and stolen his knight, dragging her off in the direction of Ingram while Carter tried to protest, saying she was supposed to be with Danse, but Morgan was having none of it. 

“_Don’t say anything,” _ he’d heard Morgan hiss. 

“About what?_ Let go._” Carter demanded. 

Well this was going to be...interesting. He wasn’t sure if he was about to have to mitigate some damage. 

“About me, I assume. Morgan, I’m capable of introducing myself without your help scaring the new people,” came the almost-surly reply of Proctor Ingram. The woman rolled her eyes at the lancer, trying her best to look more annoyed than she really was. “The name’s Ingram, and this lovely little grease pit is where you’ll usually find me...” 

“I wasn’t bringin’ her to _you_, she can meet you in a minute. Petey!”

“Morgan,” Danse began, having caught up to the lancer and his knight, but Ingram stopped him. 

“Save it, Danse. This is what I get for letting these two strays hang around,” she said, gesturing to the Lancer and a squire that Danse had missed, who seemed to be arranging some tools for the proctor. 

“_Strays, _Ingram? Well, I _never,” _the lancer huffed before giving the Proctor a million-cap smile. At the same time, the squire beside him gave him a stern look and snapped up to his feet from where he’d been working on the ground, apologizing profusely to the Proctor for Lancer Morgan’s behavior. The two were apparently brothers, and complete opposites at that. Having two Morgans around must be exhausting for Ingram. 

“So, this is _your _Knight, Danse? I feel bad for her if Morgan decided to pick her as a friend.” 

“_Hey!” _

Carter gave her own warm smile to the Proctor, feeling at ease again now that she was no longer a part of whatever Morgan was up to in the background. “I feel bad for me, too, Proctor. Knight Carter. Pleasure.” 

“Hmph,” the Proctor said, sizing up his knight. “And Danse is sponsoring you, I hear? Well in any case, I’m sure you’re eager to get your paws on some power armor. Bay three’s up for grabs, though the left leg actuator’s a bit sticky.” 

Sticky actuators, huh? He was probably going to have to teach her basic power armor maintenance, too, come to think of it. At least they had the scribes around to help with that for now.

After a bit of coaching, as well as a bit of coaxing, he had managed to get Carter into the armor. She was a bit apprehensive, at first, claiming that it felt like the suit was grabbing her.

“Are you claustrophobic, Carter?” 

“No, it just feels like it’s grabbing my arm or something. Maybe too tight? I don’t know how this is supposed to feel.” 

“Hmm. Get out. Let me see…” 

He hopped out of his own set and into hers to see if he could figure out what she was talking about. There was some sort of snag on the left, she wasn’t wrong, but it was a very easy fix where the armor frame had just gotten bent out of shape a little. It was enough to snag your suit though. And the leg was more than just a “little” sticky. 

“Carter?” 

“Sir?” 

“Hop into mine for a minute, see if you can manage to make it go while I see what’s wrong with the leg.” 

At the very least, she would be able to see how a well-maintained suit _s__hould _ feel. This left leg in hers wasn’t going anywhere, either - it looked like the threading on one of the rods had been stripped. If he got a scribe on it, it could even be ready for their mission, and if his suspicions were right about what they were going to be doing, he _ wanted _Carter in full armor. Mutants... 

Witless, repugnant sons of bitches – and deadly, too. Danse would gladly blast them all into the pits of hell himself with extreme prejudice. He couldn’t believe that the government would experiment with F.E.V. like that before the war, breaching basic codes of ethics and sentencing humanity to..._ ugh. _

The hubris of every trusted power, every corporation,_ everything _before the war. Just look at the world that had been left behind. 

“Excuse me, Paladin?” 

“What.” 

His tone had cut while his thoughts simmered, and Carter was taken aback. She recovered quickly, though – lessons in confidence and getting more comfortable with the crew, as well as himself, had paid off. At least she had the sense to realize that his irritation wasn’t directed at her. 

“How do I make the suit go?” She still looked markedly uncomfortable wearing it, even his, and he could understand if she was feeling trapped if she couldn’t work the suit. He wasn’t sure if he could figure out how to teach her that, though – he'd been using the stuff for so long that he didn’t even have to think about it anymore. Funny, that. Most things, he could sit and think about, use reason, logically explain. Power armor, he just kind of... 

“You just _feel_ it, Carter. Don’t think of it as a cage, think of it as an extension of yourself. You’re probably overthinking it.” 

He was self-aware enough to realize that _his _advice to stop thinking sounded ridiculous. 

The blank look she gave him told him that she was biting her tongue – a wise choice. If he had to guess what she was thinking, it would have gone something like “_Right, Danse. Just feel it. Thanks for the help,_” though she still wasn't familiar enough with him for that kind of exchange.

It could also be that she was uncomfortable because all she could do was feel, Danse couldn’t really tell. Still, whatever it is that was going through the knight’s head, she got over. She took a deep breath, cleared her mind – and there it went. A step. Progress. And then a couple more steps. And then she moved an arm. 

Carter had this, but he knew she would. 

“Do I have to wear the helmet, sir?” 

He paused. How does he answer this without looking like a hypocrite since he wouldn’t be wearing a helmet? His case was different though, she pretty much melted his under the jet engine. 

“If our mission is what I think it is, I’d prefer if you wore power armor – helmet included. Why do you ask?” 

“The HUD is annoying,” she responded. The unease in her voice suggested she was lying, but he wouldn’t press it for now. Besides,_ the HUD is sort of annoying. _ He wasn’t going to admit that to her, though, because then she wouldn’t wear the damn helmet. 

“The HUD is useful. Anyway, Carter, you’ve figured it out, so get out of my suit. We’ll have a scribe take care of yours while we go see Cade.” 

The antiseptic smell of the medical bay made Danse’s nose itch. Whatever disinfectants Cade used to keep the place sterile were probably burning out whatever wasteland pathogens he still had hiding in his airways. That, or maybe he’d gotten so used to being out in the wastes that he’d forgotten what a clean space was supposed to smell like. 

Truth be told, he didn’t really want to be in here any more than he had thought Carter would want to. She’d had a couple of check-ups with Haylen already, but Cade needed to be thorough, and for whatever reason that meant Danse giving input on a couple of Carter’s answers. Cade would kick him out if the exam got...personal. 

“Ah, I see Scribe Haylen already started a file for you. Let me see...Testing your mental acuity on a bi-weekly basis? Why on...oh. You have memory loss.” 

There it was, the reminder that Danse apparently needed before he got irritated with Carter about the rifle. She’d stumbled out of the old world and into this fresh hell after a 200-year-long icy slumber. He wasn’t sure what the pre-war world was like, but it sure as hell wouldn’t have involved a whole lot of laser weaponry unless she was in the military. 

“That about sums it up,” the knight replied. 

“Interesting. Haylen seems to believe that you’ve been through some sort of trauma,” Cade jotted down some quick notes in Carter’s file while the knight quietly concentrated on her hand. Cade raised a brow and turned to Danse. “Paladin, have you noticed whether any of this has affected her performance in the field?” 

“It doesn’t seem to affect her, she’s more than capable of handling herself and working with a team.” 

“I see. Well, Knight, I won’t be conducting any further tests on the matter, I scarcely have the resources to. You’re cleared for duty, but do come see me if it gets worse.” 

Good, maybe they could get out of here before Cade pulled him aside and asked him questions about his own file. If Danse wasn’t mistaken, all that was left was a quick tour of the sleeping quarters so that Carter could find her bunk, and then they would hopefully go on ahead and light up some Commonwealth filth. 

This part, he’d let Carter do alone. He’d give her some space to get her bearings after being given the third degree by Cade, and then she could meet him in the mess hall. It isn’t like she wouldn’t be easy to find if she started to take too long - just look for the Knight with the far-away gaze, haunted by things that she didn’t even remember. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I had nothing clever for the title, so you get the quest name.  
I already warned about canon divergence, so hopefully paraphrased conversations with the NPCs aren't bothersome to you, but then again if you're a stickler for canon you've made it pretty damn far if you've gotten this far with no serious objections. I do still make an effort to spend time with their dialogue files to try to make them sound more like they should.
> 
> Any feedback, as well as discourse, is greatly appreciated as we move more into the meat and potatoes of the story since _I don't know what the fuck I'm doing :D_
> 
> Edit: I found out the fun way that one of my paragraphs was oddly deleted, I suspect by toddlers, but either way it made the end of the chapter jump weird and have a strange random sentence.  
I gotta up my proofreading game.


	17. Fragile

She was a relic that had a couple of memories of a brother that served in the military, and a hazy memory of a rainy-day funeral procession. This was Diana in a nutshell. 

Here she was, with a free ticket to the future, and she had nothing to show for it but a whole, what, three memories? Every day that passed since she’d run like hell from the darkness of the vault, streaking through the woods and clear around Nate’s home of Sanctuary Hills, what very little she could remember seemed to grow a little darker in the recesses of her mind. 

Something...something had told her to keep running that day though, and never look back. So far, she hadn’t, if only because of the sense of dread she got when she thought of it. 

Maybe it was okay that her only memories played through her head in shades of grey confusion. It made the drab browns and dull hues left behind by the nuclear holocaust more bearable than it would have been to remember the lush colors and pleasant smells of the past. And then there was whatever the hell had given her the deep gash on her palm… 

She was almost certainly happier without that memory, even if it was very likely a key to figuring out exactly who she was. 

For now, she was _exceedingly _happy that Cade wasn’t going to call her in to check on her brain all of the time. She’d dwelled on this enough for a whole lifetime, thanks. 

Paladin Danse had left her alone after they left the medical bay so that she could roam the upper part of the main deck and find her bunk. “Without your C.O. hovering,” he'd said, but she figured it was his way of allowing her some personal space without outright saying it. Or, maybe he just wanted to play with the cat. She smiled at the thought of how formal he’d been with Emmett, as well as the fact that Emmett was the one that dismissed Danse, and not the other way around. 

As it turned out, the Prydwen was pretty easy to navigate, so she had no problem finding the mess hall and her Paladin once she’d gotten done finding her bunk and locker. _ Her_ bunk and locker – it was the most she’d owned in several lifetimes, she guessed, and knowing she had her own space to come back to, even if it was just a bed and a box... it brought her a sense of peace. 

“Ready to suit up and move out?” 

_ Suit up? No. Move out? Yes. _

“Affirmative, Paladin.” 

Diana was a little uneasy about wearing her power armor. She would get used to it, and her flight-suit-uniform-thing wasn’t snagging on the frame anymore, at least. She also wasn’t_ claustrophobic_, for God’s sake. It hadn’t even been the armor itself; she had just hated when it snagged the fabric on her arm and she recoiled at the thought of the frame getting bent and doing it again. 

That stupid little tug had given her uncomfortable chills that she couldn’t place and didn’t care to, and on top of that she didn’t want to rip her suit. If Danse asked, that was the lie she was going to commit to, even if she was “a shit liar”, according to Ashton. Besides, it wasn’t necessarily untrue, she only had the one uniform for now, which meant that she would want to get a change or two. 

While she would prefer the open air, or at least not to have to wear the helmet, she could grin and bear it. Paladin Danse seemed pretty insistent about the armor thing, but he probably knew more about what their mission might be than she could guess. All she needed to do before they went on ahead to the mission briefing was... 

_ CLUNK. _

The sound of a metal arm slapping a metal thigh where flesh and fabric should have met. She couldn’t go through and check her pockets, and her heart dropped to her stomach. She couldn’t check her pack for her ammo, or her can of water, her stims...she fought it and moved forward, though, managing to make it through the mess hall and most of the way down the hallway before she began to break out in a nervous sweat. Frustrated tears began to gather in the corners of her eyes. Maybe it was a good damn thing that Danse had insisted on her wearing the helmet so that the rest of the soldiers they passed as they made their way through the airship wouldn’t have seen a grown woman starting to freak out about something so goddamn_ stupid. _

_ CLUNK. _

God there she was doing it again, regardless of the futility of the motion. Every nerve in her body began to burn with angry, insidious need, tiny voices screaming at her that she couldn’t go if she wasn’t ready, but she WAS ready. She KNEW she had everything there, she... 

_ CLUNK. _

_ God FUCKING __damnit_ _._

“Carter.”

“Yes, Paladin?” she squeaked. She’d all but forgotten that he was standing beside her, and when she looked up at him, she saw concern. They weren’t far from the med bay, he was probably about to send her off to Cade. 

“Step in here a moment, I seem to have forgotten something important.” 

The man pushed open the door to his quarters, which he’d shown her the location of earlier. She took a few laborious steps forward, nerves fraying more with each one that she took, and when he shut the door behind them it felt like her lungs would burst. If you were trembling, did your power armor shake, too? She’d meant it as a half-joke to herself, morose as it was, until she found herself genuinely looking at her armored arm to see if it shook. 

“Hop out,” he commanded. At least he hadn’t_ barked _the order at her, he usually had a way of commanding respect without having to yell, unless you fucked up spectacularly. Still, she found herself wishing that her paladin was an idiot while she climbed out of her power armor at what could only be described as a glacial pace. She did a quick wipe to her face to rid it of any angry tears that may be lingering before walking around the suit to face her fate, angry at herself, angry at whatever it is that Paladin Danse was about to say, and unable to look him in the eye. 

“Diana.” 

He’d only called her by her first name once before, but the sound of the small informality cooled her jets a little. What she saw when she looked up was not the irritation or doubt she was expecting. Instead, she was met with the face of a man weary from _years _of military service under his belt, a man that seemed to hold oceans of regret and understanding, and her own problems suddenly seemed small compared to whatever his must be. 

He still wore that same concern he’d had a minute ago, too, which brought back that strange feeling of recognition that drew her to him in Cambridge weeks ago. Memories blocked by walls of bright white. 

“Danse?” 

He tapped a spot on the chestpiece of her armor, and it popped open. “About that important thing that I mentioned... there’s a storage compartment located right here on all standard T-60 sets,” he paused, not quite willing to address the elephant in the room. “You’ll stay alive longer if you have access to your supplies.” 

Diana was dumbfounded. “You’re not going to send me off to Cade?” 

He returned her question with a snort. “If every soldier with problems on this airship went to straight to Cade right now, our forces would be down to a small handful of knights and a squire. Do you want to leave the fate of the Commonwealth in the hands of one squire?” 

Was that a _joke? _ He’d asked her with a straight face and she couldn’t tell, but oh, she was laughing anyway, and his tired expression softened a bit. She no longer wished for a stupid, unobservant C.O. - Danse and his strange brand of only-sometimes-friendship and shared understanding suited her perfectly fine. You don’t quit your job, you quit your boss, right? 

_ Water, __stimpaks__, ammo – check._

And now they were loaded into the storage nook and she was okay. Her uneasy compulsions might have actually saved her a headache, if only because Danse noticed them, considering that her supplies would have done jack-all for her in the field if they were in her pockets, anyway. 

“Do you have everything you need, Knight?” 

Back to formalities, again. 

“Affirmative, sir. Ready to move out.” 

“Outstanding.” 

* * *

“Miss me, darlin’?” 

Looked like Ashton was going to be their pilot for this mission – clearing Fort Strong just across a bit of water nearby. She wasn’t surprised that he’d managed to weasel his way into the fun, Diana wouldn’t have expected any less from him. Too bad he couldn’t see the grin she had plastered across her face with this stupid helmet and it’s stupid HUD. 

“You didn’t even give me a chance to, Morgan, we’ve only been here for a couple of hours.” 

With that, they were off, after Carter sort of stumbled into the aircraft. This was so much easier when you weren’t cased in metal, but... 

Well. Danse. 

This mission seemed like it was hitting close to home for him. Could be some of that weary soul she’d seen just a bit ago coming out, maybe he’d had some bad experiences with them before. Or, maybe he just didn’t like their ugly faces. Now certainly wasn’t the time to ask, anyway, they had a mission to run and the sooner they ended it, the better. The idea of a bunch of muties sitting on a stockpile of nukes didn’t sit well with her, either, especially not after seeing that they were stupid enough to charge you with a live nuke and think they were going to come out of the other end of it still alive. 

She was back on the minigun, and some lancer-initiate that was supposed to be getting his flight hours in was on a rocket launcher. What kind of hell were they about to stumble into? And holy mother-of-god... 

“What the hell is THAT?” she asked. 

“That, Carter, is the pinnacle of our ancestors’ hubris, a mutant behemoth. That thing has the strength of several super mutants, and the size to match.” 

Danse was right about the size thing. It was enormous, looking to be the size of a house. She was suddenly _very_ grateful that Danse had insisted she wear this can. 

“I guess it’s a good thing I helped take one down with my bare hands then, sir,” she joked nervously, unable to wrench her eyes from the sight of the thing. If Travis was going around and helping spread that rumor, he must have really thought that her, Haylen, and Broussard were some serious tanks. 

She spooled up the weapon while Morgan swung wide to keep the monster in their sights, all the while praying that this thing was as stupid as it was big. 

Several rounds from the minigun and a whole missile and this thing was still going, roaming around like it had only been mildly inconvenienced, all the while slamming its giant fists through crumbling old brick walls, searching for the source of its irritation. On the bright side, it killed a few of its mutant buddies in its mounting rage, smashing them into several of the walls as well. 

On the not-so-bright side, it had just spotted Morgan’s vertibird, and a whole damn boulder was flying at them. They didn’t stand a chance. 

“Hold onto your hats, folks, things’re about to get interestin’!” Morgan roared above the engine, before everything seemed to go in slow motion. Danse and Diana both anchored themselves the best that they could, iron grip of their suits on safety bars the only thing keeping them in the cabin as Morgan started to dive. There only seemed to be the _ whoosh _of the air around them as they plummeted straight for the salt water beneath. 

“Pull UP, damnit!” He barked at the initiate, who had buckled into the co-pilot's seat at some point next to him, and just when Diana was certain that they were about to die, Morgan’s crazy-ass dive paid off and they were hovering a few feet above the water, close enough for Diana to smell the salt, even through the helmet. “Aint takin'_ my _ ‘bird, you sonuvabitch!” 

“Lancer, that was reckless!” Danse called, and holy hell did Diana agree, but it was nice to be alive. 

“With respect, sir, that rock was headin’ straight for the blades. I figured it was either die, or_ maybe _die, and I chose the maybe instead of the sure thing.” 

“Well, you’re a hell of a pilot for pulling that off. I can see why Kells keeps you around!” 

There was that look on Ashton’s face – pleased with himself, just like the day they met. 

“Well, I thought I heard you tellin' Carter that ridin' in one of these things was ‘flyin’ in style’ earlier, so I figured I’d go ahead and give you a little style!” 

* * *

The behemoth did not go down easily. It took what felt like several more passes until it had finally fallen, but by the time Diana and the Paladin had been dropped off, the other super mutants that had been on the outside of the fort with that monstrosity had been dragged down into the pits of hell with it. The destruction left in the behemoth's wake spared none, and the damn thing even managed to clip Ashton’s landing um...thingies. No time for vertibird vocabulary right now. 

All that remained was the breach. 

This was what the insides of one of their strongholds looked like? Bones, destruction, and rotting flesh. Diana was surprised that the monsters were organized enough to store the remains in bags, if you could really call it organization. How were they cataloging...no. She didn’t want to think too much about it, it was easier that way. 

Danse motioned for her to follow, and Diana obeyed dutifully, blasting their way room through stench-filled room. She’d gotten used to the Brotherhood way – shows of raw power and barreling head on into a fight, as long as it was a fight that could be won, but this? 

This wasn’t just a show of raw power, this wasn’t “shock and awe” like Paladin Danse would sometimes taunt. This was something else entirely - a friggin’ slaughter. 

There was a point after they’d descended further below where she’d taken a sledge to the chest, and she was thankful for his insistence about the armor once again. It didn’t hurt, really, but it knocked her down and the wind in her lungs went with her balance. Her sponsor unloaded what must have been an entire cell into that mutant, even long after it had already dropped dead. 

It was finally over, though. One Knight and one Paladin had managed to take back the fort with several hundred rounds of ammunition and a vertibird escort. The buzz she’d had from the fight began to leave, and in place exhaustion was trying to settle in. Too bad she didn’t have a nuka-cola, or some snack cakes, or maybe some of Haylen’s bubblegum – something sugary to keep her focused. The return to the Prydwen was going to be a bit of a drag, but she didn’t want to waste any of her precious vertibird grenades to get back. 

“Look at this place, you must hate these mutants as much as I do.” 

_ I don’t know about that, Paladin, I’m pretty sure you doubled my kill count. _

Diana looked at the destruction left in their wake, taking everything in. “Can I ask you something?” 

She had to ask. She wasn’t sure exactly where she stood with Danse, but she knew she had the tendency to start to get a little too personal once she got comfortable around someone. Just ask Ashton about how she’d plop right down next to him with no regard to his personal space. Danse was her commanding officer, though – the only-sometimes friend. 

“I don’t see why not.” 

“Why do you hate mutants so much?” 

The disgust he had on his face amplified, which she didn’t think was possible. 

“They're responsible for the death of a close friend, a Brotherhood Knight named Cutler. So when you ask if I hate them, I say hate’s too gentle a word.” 

_ Oh, Danse... _

No wonder he was so angry. He continued on with his monologue as they worked their way back through the building, sweeping just to be certain they got every single one of these beasts that they’d put down with such animosity. Mankind blindly taking a step forward? The manufacture of fake humans? There was so much that Diana just didn’t understand, and it bothered her. She may as well be a toddler, because a squire would definitely know better than she did. 

“Look, I don’t mean to bore you with my rhetoric. I just want you to understand how important these missions are.” 

“I’m not bored, sir. I’m the one that asked, remember?” 

“I suppose.”

“Can I ask you something else, then?” 

“I’m pretty sure you’d ask even if I told you no, Carter.” 

Diana suddenly found herself wondering if she asked too many questions. 

“Super mutants... where exactly do they come from? Were they human once like the ghouls, or...?” 

The question seemed to make the Paladin wince. Anger and disgust that had been written all over Danse’s face for the better part of the last few hours evaporated, replaced by the weary look he’d had back on the airship when he’d taken her aside. Diana instantly regretted the question, she was pretty sure she had her answer right there, and it made her ill. 

“Before the bombs dropped, they were... uh. Experimenting. With viruses. Prisoners of war, and vault-tec... Mutants can’t reproduce, so they...” 

Diana wasn’t sure exactly what nerve she’d struck when she asked, but she had an idea and she wished with every fiber of her being that she could take it all back. Paladin Danse always had answers. He was always calm and collected and she’d accidentally left him grasping for words he couldn’t seem to find. The implication, though... 

Man really had just gone blindly forward, hadn’t they? Nobody deserved to have their humanity stripped from them so violently, whether or not they were military prisoners. And vault-tec did this too? And if those monsters...were...taking prisoners...oh god. She couldn’t help the hot tears running down her cheeks. 

“Sir?” 

He was still searching, trying to come up with a concrete answer for her. She took off her helmet and dropped it, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder. She had to figure out how to help him – he'd already helped her once today. 

“_Danse.” _Informality seemed to help; he was looking at her now, anyway. “I can ask Neriah, you don’t have to answer.” 

That eased him, if only a bit, before he got a good look at her face. 

“Diana, were you _crying? _ You can't stand there and tell me that after everything I’ve been trying to teach you, that you’re upset that you had to kill...” 

_ Glad to see my stupid angry crying has helped more than once today. _

“Danse.” 

“What?” He sure knew how to turn a room to ice with just one word, didn’t he? 

“I’m not... I wasn’t crying because I feel bad for killing those things - I don’t feel bad at all. They’re dangerous and they charge people with nukes and they shouldn’t exist. I was crying because they_ shouldn’t exist _in the first place, they...” 

_ Now who’s the one grasping for words? _

“I wasn’t crying for the mutants, I guess it was for the people that they used to be. I don’t... I don’t want anyone else to have to lose themselves like that. That’s what we’re fighting for, right?”

“Right... I suppose you’ve been listening to my advice after all.” 

There was an uncomfortable silence between the two as they came to grips with the fact that they’d both had a longer day than they’d planned to. Besides that, Diana had probably pissed the man off again, she really needed to stop asking questions before her curiosity started getting her in real trouble. 

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“You don’t need to be.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure being saddled with a naïve, pre-war amnesiac is tons of fun for you.”

“I already knew you were a ‘naive, pre-war amnesiac’ before I agreed to take you under my wing. Anyway, you should head back up to the Prydwen and talk to Maxson. I’m sure he’ll want to debrief you as soon as possible. You’re dismissed.” 

“Yes, sir. But before I go?”

“Yeah?” 

Diana pulled pulled a few things from her nifty little storage nook. This may damn well kill her, but she still felt immensely guilty for a lot of things, and she didn’t have a roof to run off to so that she could hide and cry some more. She handed her little gift off to the paladin – can of water, single stimpak, single fusion cell. She couldn’t part with_ all _of her gear without having another episode, and he was probably more prepared than she was, anyway. 

“Water, stimpaks, ammo – check. That’s the list I – that's my list.”

“I see... Thank you, Diana. Now, put your helmet back on, please.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

* * *

“’Bout time.” 

Maybe she wasn’t going to have to walk around the water, after all. Diana had passed a few other knights on their way in to help Danse with the cleanup. There was a ‘bird parked around the corner and her favorite pilot leaning back on the outside of the cabin, idly cleaning his nails with a knife while he waited around. She hit the release button on the inside of her suit almost fast enough to break the sound barrier and found herself running straight for him as soon as she was back out in the open air. 

Her outburst took him by surprise, but he still managed to catch her. Most of the time she was content to be alone when she was upset, but she didn’t feel okay right now. She was suddenly acutely aware that Morgan was now the only real friend she had around, no Haylen, no Amelie, not even Rhys to antagonize her and tell her to suck it up. He was patient enough, for once, just to hold her while she sobbed for a minute. 

“Long day, I take it?” 

“This world sucks.” 

“I keep forgettin’ you’re a vaultie. You alright?”

“I will be. Just have to get used to the monsters.”

Ashton let out a deep sigh as he placed his chin on top of her head. Danse was right, earlier, if everyone reported to Cade, nobody would be left – not the strong and patient paladins or even the mischievous, carefree-looking lancers. This world really, really sucked – everything was damaged before ever even having a chance to live. 

“Darlin’, I don’t think you can get used to the monsters. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who really has, and the ones that say they have’re full of shit. Now, c’mon, let’s get you out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long one. With fewer people to bounce between, chapters may get a bit longer to better develop the plot and some of the characters.
> 
> I feel like I've kind of neglected some of Carter's development. Not necessarily intentionally, I was bouncing between 5 characters for the first 15 chapters - although some of it very much so is intentional because her story isn't quite Nate and Nora's story even though it's related (Nate's been referred to as her brother at least a couple of times). She don't remember much right now, y'all, but she very much so has a backstory.
> 
> Thank you very much for your patience and willingness to suspend your disbelief a little bit. Much, much love ♥
> 
> ETA: Morgan's diving isn't even that unrealistic, from the looks of things. With the degree of rotation that vertibirds seem to have, they shouldn't be so goddamn easy to take down unless morons are flying them. I'm not saying he's even doing something FANCY. If you want fancy, look at the red-bull helicopter pilot, his name's Chuck Aaron. Morgan is NOT Chuck Aaron. Maybe someday, after bajillions more flight hours, but not today. He's just young and determined, not Jesus with a helicopter.


	18. Wingman

“Morgan!” 

Ashton Morgan couldn’t even be bothered to crawl out from under his bird. He knew exactly who was talkin' to him. 

“Yes, sir?” He called out. He had to fix this damn thing, preferably before it got dark. What was with the social call? 

“I saw that stunt you pulled out near Fort Strong, what the hell were you thinking, lancer? You nearly killed one of my most respected officers and our new Knight.” 

_ Oh, for the love of... _

_ “ _You gonna let me work on getting my landing gear in order, or are you gonna stand there and pretend to be irritated?” 

“You’re a pain in the ass, Morgan.” 

“Well, that’s what happens when you pretend to be someone you ain’t for two days, lettin’ me think you were just some Knight. Elder of the whole damn Brotherhood…” Morgan grumbled, pulling himself out from under his aircraft. That behemoth had done a number on the bottom of this thing, but it hadn’t taken them down. 

Ashton withdrew a cleaning rag from his back pocket, wiping the grease away from his tools as he circled around the outside to where he could adequately be talked at. He could barely tell whether or not he was actually in trouble, but, considering the fact that he had to be parked on the ground to be able to fix his landing gear, he was likely getting _some _sort of lecture. Maxson didn’t come down to the airport all that often. 

Boy, Maxson sure had mastered that stony look in the past few years. 

“How can I help you, Elder?” 

“What was the nosedive about, Morgan?” 

“Behemoth threw a rock at the rotors. It needed to be done. You prefer I let the next one kill everyone?” 

“_Lancer _.” 

Right, right. Protocol. Ashton rolled his eyes. As far as he was concerned, the Elder needed him around. Everybody else was too busy kissing his ass to treat him like normal folk; and from what he understood, Maxson had vacillated between being either isolated or put on a pedestal nearly his whole life. Ashton reckoned that it must be pretty lonely at the top. Lonely enough to_ lie about his upcoming promotion to Elder_ when they met_. _Ashton probably wasn’t ever going to let that one go. 

Besides, you can still have tons of respect for someone without saluting ‘em all of the time. Now, that wasn’t to say that if any actual_ people _were around, he wouldn’t have the sense to stand at attention and keep his trap shut. He knew how to behave properly. 

“My apologies,_ Elder,_ I meant no disrespect. Anyhow, flyin' safe ain’t always the safest bet. It might’ve looked like I was bein’ reckless, but I absolutely stand by what I did - otherwise we’d've all been toast. I take it Kells ain’t too pleased?” 

“Lancer-Captain Kells didn’t see it, otherwise you’d be scraping rust off of the hull instead of having a conversation about it,” Maxson shook his head. “We lost another vertibird a few days ago while you were in Cambridge - they were on a patrol down south. The place is a deathtrap,” he spat in disgust. 

Well there was the real reason for the social call. Deaths were weighin’ on the man again, and he didn’t have anyone else to talk to about it. Ashton only had one person in the whole world to fuss about – Peter. Arthur Maxson had the entire Brotherhood. The man was stronger than most, being able to lead as well as he did without offing himself. 

Wars were expensive in that way, not only literally – hemorrhaging caps and resources by what seemed like the second. You also had to pay the grim reaper his dues. If you were lucky, them dues got paid with the blood of your enemies, and those were enough to sate the reaper’s blood lust. Other times, it was the blood of your own men, or even the blood of innocents and children that the shadows came for with their scythes. It tended to suck your soul dry when it came to that. 

“What happened?” 

“We can’t be certain, but as far as we can tell, nobody survived. There hasn’t even been a distress signal.” 

“You sent anyone down that way?” 

“We will at some point, I still haven’t sent anyone out for Brandis’s team. However, that’s not what I came down here for, and I suppose I should get to it - I want more initiates out with you. It wouldn’t hurt for them to learn to take a few calculated risks.” 

“With all due respect, Elder, I ain’t sure that initiates are a great idea, they ain’t got the…” 

“The flight hours, I know. I’ve got to come up with some way to keep the wrecks at bay, though, and as long as you aren’t encouraging recklessness...” 

“I may come off as reckless, but you know as well as I do that it ain’t the case. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be down here.” 

“The initiate that was out with you earlier seems to think you’d taken leave of your senses.” 

“Left an impression, did I?” 

Maxson snorted at the comment, shaking his head once again. A smile began to tug at the corners of his mouth, taking years off of the kid’s face - and Ashton did get to think of him as a “kid”. Ashton was older by almost a year, not that you could tell anymore since the Elder looked like he was goin’ on 40, between the vodka and the scruff. 

“Yes, you did. Anyway, Morgan, you’ve got your orders. You’re dismissed.” 

“_Dismissed__? _This ain’t the command deck. You can’t come down here to where I’m workin’ and dismiss me, I still got a bird to fix.” 

“I stand by my earlier statement. You’re a pain in the ass!” Maxson called back to him, having already turned on his heel and cleared half of the distance to the airport gate. 

Ashton may be a pain in his ass, but at least he was someone Maxson could talk to without being judged. 

* * *

Ashton needed some more dang supplies, and they weren’t going to be in ‘til at least tomorrow. Great, his baby was grounded just as soon as he’d gotten back into the fray. That didn’t mean_ he _was grounded, though, on account of his new orders to keep the other lancers on their toes. He was sure that had been an interesting conversation between Maxson and Kells, but he was also sure that the conversation had come up the moment that the vertibird’s comm systems went dark. 

As usual, the Elder was probably right, so long as Ashton wasn’t going to be training anyone that was too hot-blooded and cocky. Ashton was confident, sure, but bein’_ too _confident is what’ll getcha killed. Orders were orders, though – at least Maxson had listened to his concerns. 

Well, he may as well head back on up to the airship and make himself useful. He wondered whether Diana and Danse had cleared the fort yet. 

His boots had barely hit the metal of the walkway before Kells was giving him orders. Easy orders. Take the ‘bird that was stationed at the airport as a shuttle, the ‘bird he had literally just climbed out of, and drop some knights off at the fort to help Paladin Danse with cleanup and retrieval. 

He figured he’d get Diana, too, if she hadn’t already left. A 2-minute vertibird flight would be a lot shorter than the hike she’d have to take if she had to walk all of the way around. He could even give her a couple of minutes to show before flying back to the Prydwen. The shuttle ‘bird didn’t need to be there every second of the day, but if he waited around too long, someone was liable to get antsy. 

Didn’t take her long at all. He’d been hanging around outside of the bird for less than a minute before he looked up and she’d lost the suit and was streaking toward him. Well, that wasn’t good. She kill Danse or somethin’? It didn’t matter, she was crying in his arms now and he wasn’t too sure what was going on. He supposed he was everyone’s counsel today. 

“Long day, I take it?” 

“This world sucks.” 

“I keep forgettin’ you’re a vaultie. You alright?” 

“I will be. Just have to get used to the monsters.” 

_ I will be. _Those were fighting words, at least. Still didn’t tell him what was going on in her head, but it didn’t much matter. Nobody really wanted to say what was on their minds these days, and not in their line of work either. He rested his chin on the top of her head for a minute and thought about what he could say without knowing any specifics. 

“Darlin’, I don’t think you can get used to the monsters. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who really has, and the ones that say they have’re full of shit. Now, c’mon, let’s get you out of here.” 

_ “Thank you, Ashton.” _

Diana looked almost alright, again. See, she just needed to be held a minute - everyone needed to be held sometimes. They were only human, after all. It was also his opinion that Diana could use some company for a while, once she’d talked to Maxson and showered some of the mutant smell off. Showers did wonders to make a person feel whole again, too. 

Ashton left Diana in the incredibly capable hands of his brother, Peter, while he made a quick jaunt down to the mess hall to find them some noodles. Petey was always studyin’, or readin’, or bein’ responsible in general. Some days it seemed nearly impossible that they’d been cut from the same cloth, but they were. Ashton didn’t even know why he bothered to worry about Peter when he was gone, kid could probably even give Danse a run for his money in terms of being a model Prydwen occupant. 

Peter’s knowledge was also useful, because that meant he could field any weird questions Diana came up with to ask about the airship. However, it was Peter that was asking the questions when Ashton climbed back up the steps, finding both the squire and the knight sitting cross-legged together on the bottom bunk instead of where he left Peter on his top bunk reading. 

“One of you needs to scoot over,” Ashton said dryly, figuring he’d just lost his spot for the night. He didn’t actually mind it, but they did manage to make some space for him without even breaking their conversation. Ashton was content to just sit back and listen, passing Diana a flask of whiskey he had and watching her nose wrinkle when she took a swig. 

“My friend says that he heard you’ve tamed a deathclaw?” Peter asked, eyeing Diana suspiciously over his new bowl of noodles. 

“Is that so? What do you think?” 

Peter sat for a minute, putting careful thought into it. Ashton wasn’t all that sure how he’d managed to raise his brother to be such a skeptic, even though it probably had something to do with how he was always goin’ on about bein’ careful with who you trusted. Ashton may make a lot of friends, but he could count the people he really trusted on one hand. 

“Well, you look pretty well put together,” he observed. “No gashes from clawmarks or scars or anything. Besides, you’d have to be nuts to try something like that.” 

“Can I tell you a secret?” 

“Sure!” 

“I’ve never even seen a deathclaw. And I’d never seen a mutant behemoth before today.” 

“My brother was telling me about that! He said that it was a hard battle and that you, and him, and Paladin Danse took it down outside of that fort.” 

“Did he tell you that he nearly dropped us into the ocean?” 

“What? No. I’m not surprised though, Ash flies like a lunatic.” 

The two turned to give him a pointed look while Diana giggled – he was glad she was feelin' at ease again. Hangin' around any of the squires usually had that effect on folks though, unless they were underfoot. 

“Knight Carter?” 

“You can call me Diana, I am friends with your brother, right? Anyway, what’s up?” 

“Okay, Diana.” Ashton could tell his brother was testing out the name, and that it weirded him out. He wasn’t informal with anyone. Ever. Model soldier and all that. Ashton supposed that maybe Peter made up for all of his brashness with his overly formal act. “What’s Paladin Danse like?” 

“Danse? He’s…” 

If Ashton wasn’t mistaken, the woman looked a little bit melancholy, or something. She spent so much energy avoiding the subject most of the time, and had never gotten around to telling Ashton what her deal was, anyway. In fact, come to think of it, he didn’t know a whole lot about Diana at all. He supposed that made them even, though. 

“Paladin Danse is, first and foremost, very dedicated to upholding Brotherhood principles... “ 

“You can say that again,” Ashton interjected. “Damn near gave you a lecture on ‘em the entire flight here.” 

That remark jerked her a bit out of her melancholy and made her smile for a second, before she continued on. 

“He’s very fair to his subordinates, and takes the time to hear out the entire story before he delivers any sort of judgement. He’s patient, mostly, unless you ask stupid questions or do really stupid things. Fierce in battle...” 

“_And_,” Ashton added, vowing to interrupt for the last time, “word is, he has really nice hair.” 

The look on Diana’s face was worth every cap he had to his name. Her eyes went wide in shock, and her cheeks burned scarlet before she caught herself. She’d been exposed, and after her shock she furrowed her brow and scrunched up her nose, trying her damnedest to be cross with him. Oh, she looked like she just might kill him, and Ashton grinned back at her devilishly. He’d learned that tidbit from Howe, who’d learned from Rhys. 

“Diana Carter, you are just about as subtle as a deathclaw.” 

* * *

It was late when Ashton was coming back down the stairs from showing Diana where the forecastle was. Nobody really went up there much, and she could do that thing where she gazed out into the dark, bein’ all lonesome late into the night. Might not could see stars with the clouds overhead, but she could see the city. 

On his way back toward his bunks to finally get some dang sleep, Morgan nearly ran smack dab into his third wayward soul for the day. Had they just gotten back in from the fort? And what was up with today, anyway, was he just playing therapist for the whole ship? Wingman...wingman for the whole ship was better. 

“Evenin' Paladin. You’re lookin’ a little lost there without your armor on ya.” 

“Evening, Lancer. It’s out of commission until I can get the grime off of it. Damn mutants…” 

Danse had grumbled that last part, mostly to himself. Morgan didn’t reckon he’d ever seen Danse lookin'…well, not disheveled. Danse was too composed a man to look quite that bad, but he looked like he shouldn’t be alone at least, and it gave Morgan another bright idea. 

“Well, if you get tired of cleanin’ the gunk off of all of that steel all alone, I think Carter’s up dangling her legs off of the forecastle walkway.” 

“Carter’s still awake?” 

“Well, you’re still awake, ain’t you?” 

Morgan would leave some of the details out, hoping that just mentioning Diana would make the man curious. He wasn’t going to mention that she’d gotten a shot or two of warm liquid courage in her, or that she was up there daydreaming and singing sad songs. He also wasn’t going to mention that she’d let her hair down or that it fell past her shoulders in soft waves. He wanted to know if Danse was even capable of being disarmed. 

Call it research, if you’d like. Rodriguez and Howe had started another bet just before they’d all left Cambridge, and Morgan was supposed to be their informant. All Morgan needed to do was observe long enough to see if Danse would take the bait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morgan guides the lost souls in this chapter.  
Like a psychopomp, but without the death.  
I got the title "wingman" because it fits Morgan and what he's doing all chapter, for starters. And because of a very well known trickster god that helps the dead out with their wandering to the underworld - Hermes. Who has wings on his sandals.
> 
> Helpful, mischievous, gotta go fast? Delivering secret information to Cambridge? <strike>Hermes</strike> Morgan.
> 
> _I may have also just come off of a binge of a really popular webtoon about Greek gods._


	19. Fragmented

_“I wasn’t crying for the mutants, I guess it was for the people that they used to be. I don’t... I don’t want anyone else to have to lose themselves like that. That’s what we’re fighting for, right?” _

_ The people they used to be. _

Was she too soft? Danse wasn’t so sure, after that, but at least she’d said that she had no qualms putting the mutant filth down like they deserved. Maybe she understood what the Brotherhood was about, in her own way. After all, Diana had been grieving the loss of countless peoples’ humanity. She had no way of knowing it, but she’d also been grieving Danse’s closest friend. 

_ The people they used to be. _

Danse hadn’t even grieved. 

_ The people they used to be. _

It isn’t like he had any time to. There wasn’t ever time in this world. 

_ The people they used to be. _

Ugh_, __goddamnit_, you can’t just _stop_. You have to keep moving forward! There was too much at stake – if he didn’t stop fighting, what would happen? Evil would get a firm grasp on the world again, and if _this _was the world left behind, he couldn’t stand to imagine what it would look like if Armageddon repeated itself. 

She_ did _understand that, right? _Right? _

He continued his trek back down through the fort to the stockpile below, stopping to bash another dead mutant’s skull in, just for good measure. Their mission had gone well and it should not have ended with him floundering the way that he did. All she did was ask him a very simple question, and he should have been more than capable of answering it. 

There was no way that he would be getting any sleep tonight. 

He busied himself while he waited for backup to get down here. He could hear the whirs and clinks of the elevator’s ascension to the floors above, and found some solace in the fact that he’d be giving orders again soon. Perfect. If he could manage to keep his mind occupied, shuttling cases of nuclear ordnance between the pits of this hell and the world up above, he would be fine. 

The dinging sound of the elevator doors opening brought him back to Rivet City, though, and instead of carrying a crate of nukes, he was hauling a crate of junk through the back of his shop. The elevator’s ding was replaced by that of the service bell on the counter. 

* * *

_ Ding. _

Why? _The marketplace isn’t even open yet. _

_ Dingdingdingdingdingdingdingding _ _ . _

“Hold on.” 

Danse had just gotten this stack of telephones balanced enough to haul to the front, he didn’t want to drop them all and break something. 

_ DINGDINGDINGDING - _

“Cutler! Will you cut that out?” 

“I’ll cut-ler that out! Heh. Hey, put those things down and come here a sec. We don’t need them anymore.” 

“Why wouldn’t we?” 

“Just come here.” 

“Fine.” 

Still unwilling to drop his box of phones, he gingerly placed them on top of a nearby stool. As long as nobody bumped into it, they’d be fine, although Cutler would probably bump the stool as soon as he came back behind the counter. No matter though, Danse had a bone to pick with his friend. The marketplace was supposed to open in 20 minutes, and Cutler should have been here earlier than this. 

“You’re in late. I take it you had a long night after you left the Rudder?” 

“I had a very long night, if you catch my drift.” 

The ease with which Cutler managed to say stuff like that never failed to surprise, and occasionally amuse him. Cutler was lucky to have him around to keep him grounded, otherwise who knows what kind of trouble he’d always be getting up to. Belle Bonny definitely would have blacklisted him from her bar a long time ago. He was certain of it. 

“You’re a degenerate,” he jested. It was just about all Danse could do to keep his friend on the straight and narrow, but Cutler kept him sane in return. 

“I prefer the term ‘rascal’. And you could be one, too, if I could just figure out how to teach you to flirt without overthinking it. Anyway, check this out.” 

Cutler produced a wrinkled-up flyer from the back of his pocket, confidently smacking it straight down on the counter before realizing he’d put it there upside down. He picked it back up, smoothing it out some before handing it over to Danse. The flyer featured a dead mutant in the foreground, with its head under a soldier’s boot and a backdrop of one of the city’s historical monuments. ‘Enlist Today!’ was plastered across the top. 

“They’re recruiting?” 

“You bet your ass they’re recruiting, Dansey-boy. What do you think?” 

“I think it’s a hell of a lot better than stacking junk for a living.” 

“Well then, what do you say we get the hell out of here?” 

* * *

“Stacking junk.” Danse found the memory a little bittersweet, that was pretty close to what he was doing right now. All you had to do was replace the telephones with carefully-packed, ready to explode munitions. 

Even with backup, the remainder of the assignment took another couple of hours, and it would likely take weeks to rid the fort of the putrid stench left behind by those monstrosities. 2300 hours... that meant the clock was well on its way to resetting before the team was loaded up and moving out to the Prydwen. Good. He could take a shower and leave this fort and all of the discomfort he’d found within it behind him soon and begin again tomorrow. He’d probably spend the majority of the night reading, otherwise he’d just end up staring at the ceiling in his quarters. He didn’t always appreciate the places that his mind liked to wander when his guard was let down. 

Back aboard the Prydwen, he trudged through the metal hallways, exhaustion beginning to seep into his veins and make his pace lethargic. Make no mistake, the mental gymnastics required to compress your thoughts took almost as much out of you as battles and manual labor did. Once he’d made it to the maintenance bay, he took note of Carter’s armor parked back in bay three. She’d at least had the sense to scrub the worst of the gunk off, and he resigned himself to parking his own armor in the closest bay to hers. 

The dent in her chestpiece brought him back in time again, but this time he was a freshly-promoted knight, and all of the new knights were celebrating – the power armor derby, a not-so-secret tradition that had died out over time. 

The objective was simple: be the first to make it from the outside of the citadel gates over to Wilhelm’s Wharf in your power armor, no holds barred. You could smash through things, bulldoze through parked cars, barrel into your fellow brothers and sisters – you know, whatever got you there before everyone else. The only catch was that you had 60 seconds to down a beer and a shot, and that fusion cores were off-limits for some very obvious reasons. 

* * *

“Alright, Cutler, let me get this straight - loser has to swap latrine duty for a month?” 

“And buy the drinks!” 

“For an entire month? We'll both go broke.” 

“You mean_ you’ll _go broke, but you might be right about that one. Drinks at the wharf after, then?” 

“Fine, then. I won’t go easy on you.” 

“Attaboy, Danse!” 

Cutler ripped the cap off of an old, brown beer bottle and passed it over to his friend, completing the gesture with the wiggle of a brow and a smug grin. There were about a dozen of them that had just been promoted which meant a brutal competition was ahead of them. 

“Here, this stuff’ll make you brave.” Cutler added, shaking his head at the taste of whatever swill the knights had just taken a shot of. “Man, this is some real bottom-of-the-barrel shit.” 

Cutler had that right, Danse couldn’t even tell what liquor that it was supposed to be. With beers drained and shots of mystery liquor downed, the line of knights awaited the signal to sprint ahead while an excited buzz filled the air. The knight-sergeant facilitating their contest readied his flare. 

“On your marks!” 

There was no way Danse was going to lose this. He took a deep breath, looking at the obstacles ahead and forming a quick strategy. 

“Go!” 

The flare was off, and knights were barreling through the ruined streets alongside the Potomac. A couple of them were ahead, but they’d made a critical mistake – going around the ancient, collapsing bridge leading toward Jefferson Memorial. Danse kept straight, vaulting through the archways and over the barriers – straight through the bridge the others had gone around. 

He made a critical mistake, as well, though. The mystery alcohol was already starting to catch up and he stumbled when he came out of the other side - landing in the sand and making a pit around him. The ones who he had passed with his vaulting passed him in turn, and just as he was getting un-stuck from the riverside silt, Cutler leap-frogged over him and onto the pavement ahead. 

Damnit. A crash sounded behind him - more were catching up. He had a lot of ground to make up since sand and heavy things didn’t tend to play nice. 

The little waterfront shack was in his sights. He had made up most of his lost lead, and as much as he wanted to win, all he had to do was beat Cutler, and he was dangerously close to catching up. The pair were neck and neck when Danse got knocked back by a blow to the chest. No holds barred, remember? 

Cutler must have really wanted that free beer. 

* * *

In any case, he could show Carter how to work the dents out of the chestplate tomorrow, if the scribes didn’t beat them to it. He certainly had the firsthand experience. 

_ Was she too soft? _He asked himself, again, letting lukewarm water pelt his face while he brooded. Between the tears, the pinky swears, and the moral crisis she’d had over that ghoul... 

No, maybe not. Ghouls still seemed to repulse her, or at the very least the feral ones still did, which was fine. 

And then there were the synths in ArcJet - they had seemed to subliminally provoke something in Carter that was akin to wrath, so that meant their primary mission in the Commonwealth wouldn’t be called into question. 

What the Institute was doing replacing humans with synths was a different kind of dangerous - sinister and mysterious, vying for control of the world through subterfuge and infiltration, and Diana seemed to understand that thoroughly. 

No, he ultimately resolved that she wasn’t too soft, she was just... compassionate, which hopefully wouldn’t cause trouble. He supposed that if it had been her in his shoes, she still would have had the sense to..._put down _...

The thoughts were starting to get uncomfortable again. Anyway, Danse decided that the only difference between her and him is that she would have cried afterward. 

Well, the shower obviously hadn’t eased his wandering mind a whole lot. The steam swirled through the air with the exhale of his breath, and he pulled on a black jumpsuit to replace the orange one while it dried. At least he didn’t_ smell _like mutant anymore, so there was a silver lining. 

“Evenin' Paladin. You’re lookin’ a little lost there without your armor on ya.” 

Where in the hell had Morgan popped out from? 

“Evening, Lancer. It’s out of commission until I can get the grime off of it. Damn mutants…” 

Too many damn mutants. There were always too many damn mutants. One mutant was too many damn mutants. That was beside the point though, Danse also wasn’t sure if he liked the look on Morgan’s face. Did Morgan’s narrowed eyes and knit brow mean Danse looked as derelict as he felt? 

“Well, if you get tired of cleanin’ the gunk off of all of that steel all alone, I think Carter’s up dangling her legs off of the forecastle walkway.” 

It was also apparently exceptionally obvious that he was heading to the maintenance bay. Did Morgan just mention Carter? He wasn’t certain that he wanted anything to do with Carter right at this moment, but it didn’t surprise Danse at all that she’d found the forecastle. 

“Carter’s still awake?”

“Well, you’re still awake, ain’t you?” 

That was a fair point. Perhaps he_ could_ go see why she was still up. What if something was amiss? 

Sure enough, Carter was there, dangling her legs off of the walkway exactly like Morgan said. She looked pensive – gazing across Boston at nothing in particular while long wisps of hair blew in the breeze. 

He hadn’t meant it, but his approach startled her, making her flinch as his boots clinked on the metal floor and stopped next to her. She looked up and held his gaze the same way she had before in Cambridge a couple of times, but unlike then, she surrendered – letting her guard down almost immediately. 

“My apologies, Carter, I didn’t mean to alarm you.” 

“Not a problem, sir. Is everything alright?” 

That wasn’t right. She wasn’t supposed to be checking on him, he was supposed to be checking on her. It was past midnight, now, and things weren’t supposed to be awkward anymore, but that didn’t change the fact that he still felt it. 

“I came to ask you the same thing. Morgan said that...” 

_ “Of course, he did.” _ she muttered, rolling her eyes to herself before turning back to him. “Do you want to sit?” 

“I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to intrude.” 

She let out a gentle laugh, patting the spot on the floor next to her and extending the invitation further. “It’s not really intruding if I asked. Besides, you can intrude any time you want. Isn’t that what sponsors do?” 

If he wasn’t mistaken, she had flushed a bit, although the chilly air and faint smell of whiskey on her breath could explain it. Her warm invitation was convincing, in any case, and the awkwardness he felt seemed to dissipate a little with her sincerity. 

“Where’s your hood, anyway? You’re always wearing that thing.” 

Well, he didn’t have to worry about the small talk. As usual, Carter had the questions covered and the whiskey seemed to have left her with fewer inhibitions. What kind of question was that, though? 

“Drying out. I had to wash the whole suit.” 

“Right. We don’t have to talk about that...” 

Did he really wear that thing so much? Maybe he shouldn’t, considering his helmet had gotten fried anyway. Cutler had implied that he should lose the hood several times... 

“Why do you ask, though?” 

The woman chewed her lip a bit, studying his expression while she chose a careful answer. 

“You remind me of someone, I think. Is that weird?” 

“What?” Well that...he wasn’t sure what to think about that. 

“Back at Cambridge, when you dragged me off to Haylen because you thought I was sick, that had nothing to do with radiation and everything to do with...oh, this is stupid,” she huffed, returning her gaze outward toward the city. “You took off your hood, and I’d never seen your hair before. You reminded me then, and you reminded me a minute ago, too.” 

“Oh.” 

No wonder she had acted strange around him that day. 

“I’m sorry, I...um...” 

The warmth and sincerity she had been radiating began to tint with unease. Diana was always honest with him so far, and he didn’t really want her to feel uncomfortable around him. How could whatever she had on her mind be any worse than the way that she had unceremoniously blurted out that she thought she murdered someone? 

“Are you alright, Carter?” 

“Probably.” 

“You’re welcome to speak with me off of the record, if that’s what you need.” 

“Are you sure?” Her voice was barely audible, as if she wasn’t sure if she was asking him or asking herself. 

“Absolutely.” 

“Everything feels so strange. I have a few things that I_ know _about myself, like I know my name, and I know that I lived in Salem before I went to help take care of Nate, but those things aren’t really _memories, _you know? I can’t actually remember where I lived in Salem or anything else about it, for that matter. Does that even make sense? I don’t know.” She sighed, brows knitting together as her frustration mounted. “My brother’s wife, Nora, she...died, a few weeks before the bombs dropped. Another thing that I _know _but can’t remember. I don’t even know what happened to her.” 

The woman leaned forward to rest her chin on the safety railing, tension from her irritation draining from her. 

“I guess I feel guilty, and I feel selfish, because I can’t even remember Nora’s face. But, instead of worrying about that, I’m sitting here wondering who _I _was. Wondering what you remind me of.” 

“Hmm...” he said, looking down at his own boots dangling off of the catwalk, not entirely sure what to say to any of that. “Well, you’re certainly not selfish for being curious about your own past. I know I would be.” 

“You think so?” 

“In my experience, selfish people don’t sit around berating themselves for being selfish.” 

“I don’t know about that,” she smiled, conscience appearing to have been eased. “But thank you for putting up with me._ Again_. I feel better.” 

“I’m glad. I hope that if anything is troubling you in the future, that you feel secure enough to talk to me about it. I won’t judge you.” 

“I know you won’t.” 

A comfortable silence settled between them for a moment before she was giving him a sideways glance. She looked like she was scheming. 

“Something else on your mind?” 

“You just told me that you won’t judge me, right? Pinky swear?” 

Why did this already sound like the kind of bad idea that Cutler would come up with? 

“I don’t know, yet, you look like you’re up to something. It seems like it would be dangerous to make promises without all available information.” 

“I heard something earlier about Power Armor...” 

_ Power armor this time, huh? _

“Out with it.” 

“Is it true that you can jump off of the Prydwen in it without getting hurt? That’s a big drop.” 

“Where did you hear that?” 

“One of the squires…” she admitted sheepishly. It was a good thing she had Danse around to answer her questions, she would get herself killed if she was taking counsel from squires. 

“I would strongly advise against taking anything a squire says for gospel, but…” he let a wistful smile play across his lips, reminded of the derby again, “yeah, you can fall from pretty high up. Higher than the Prydwen’s moored, even.”

“Oh, awesome! Come on!” 

She didn’t even seem to realize or care that she’d taken his hand to drag him along toward the door with her, or care that he was her superior, but she’d let go as soon as she was satisfied that he would follow. 

She didn’t even ask if it was okay – the two of them were just standing in the maintenance bay while she bubbled with excitement. 

“Can we?” 

“So_ now_ you ask permission? After you’ve already dragged me through the ship?” 

“Please?” 

“Why, though?” 

“I don’t know. I think the whiskey I had earlier’s making me feel brave.” 

_ Cutler would have liked her, _he decided. He’d had no intention of telling her no in the first place – after all, it was harmless fun and today had been less than pleasant. 

Back outside, the first snow flurries of winter began to twirl gently through the air, bringing an almost peaceful silence to their surroundings. His knight paused for a moment at the door to appreciate the scene. 

“Are you ready, Carter?” 

“Are _you?” _

_ “ _I’ve been around longer than you have. I’ve done this before.” 

“Race you? Last one down has to get snack cakes.” 

“There’s not enough space here to...” 

It was too late, she’d taken off running towards the edge, but she hesitated, turning back to look at him and make sure he was following. 

Critical mistake. 

Danse wasn’t about to lose a second time, all he had to do was make it to the ground first, right? He had this. He grinned back at the knight while she realized that she had slipped up, and launched himself right over the railing. Who needed a running start, anyway? 

Time slowed and the free-fall finally cleared Danse’s thoughts and earlier reservations about Carter while wind and snow blew around him. He felt like he might be able to trust her with the story he couldn’t tell her about Cutler at the fort, after all. Not right now, maybe, but… well. He felt like he understood her a little bit better. 

And...yeah. Cutler would have liked her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awkward babies that don’t quite get how to have a casual conversation!  
No, Carter wasn't admitting ~feelings~, but she shared that flask with Morgan last chapter and her guard was a little more down, and she was feeling a little more comfortable around Danse.
> 
> Lots of parallels in this one between all of the different storylines. Some past, some present, some future. 
> 
> Power armor derby, inspired a little bit by a mix of some cut atom cats content and the jumping records the knights have. I guess knights may not have all had their own power armor back when Danse was a wee lad, but I don’t care because DERBY. 
> 
> It's too bad that canned beer doesn’t seem to exist in-universe, because I’d much rather have written Danse and Cutler shotgunning a beer with the other knights. Makes sense, though, canning facilities seem to be few and far between and 200-something-year old beer in an aluminum can would probably taste like shit, or at least more like shit than 200 year old beer would probably taste, anyway, unless you like your hops with a side of degraded metal particles. 
> 
> I know that Grandma Sparkle (that’s her name right?) over at the Wharf doesn’t really keep a hell of a lot on her, but for the purpose of this story, I headcanon that when a derby is coming up, she stocks up on the booze because she knows that the soldiers will hang around and buy all of it. They have somewhere to hang out and drink for the night, and she makes some caps that she wouldn’t otherwise make. It's a win-win. 
> 
> Danse is a Paladin, and thus at least owns an officer’s uniform, even if he only wears it on laundry day while his orange ones are drying or if there’s some sort of brotherhood affair going on where he’d need to be distinguished from the rest of the soldiers? Anyway, I only put him in it because he was being all dark and brooding and it helped with the tone for the moment and also because Batman was being played in the background while I was writing this. 
> 
> And now I'm done blathering on about stuff. These end notes are nearly as long as a chapter, for christ's sake. Enjoy some getting-to-know-you fluff and Cutler memories.


	20. Transaction

“I need you to stand down, initiate. That’s...that’s an order. Please.” 

Giving an order was new. Diana had only been a Knight for a few days, now, and hadn’t needed to wield any sort of power yet. The words felt odd, leaving her mouth almost dry as they left. 

“What are you going to do with them?” 

The Knight looked down through the old, shattered windows into Initiate Clarke’s makeshift pit. Below, a horde of feral ghouls were milling about, surrounded by loads of opened, and mostly uneaten, food. This poor man was so delusional that he didn’t seem to realize that the ferals weren’t even eating any of it, save for the cram. Twenty cases of this and it all ended up as waste. 

“I won’t do anything now, but I can’t make any promises about what’s going to happen later. It’s not safe, initiate. Someone else might get hurt.” 

“No! They’ll just slaughter them all!” 

“Please, Clarke. I need you to think this through,” Diana said, raising a cautious hand to try and show that she didn’t intend to cause any harm. As she raised the hand, gravity forced a set of holotags she’d been holding to dangle – they were the tags of Knight Rylan, a man who had gotten the idea to follow Clarke down here at some point before. She hadn’t even had the chance to meet him.

This whole assignment was way more delicate than she’d thought it was going to be. She figured someone was stealing copper wire and selling it off or something, not that 20 whole crates of food had gone missing, and not that it was being used to feed_ ferals_. Couldn’t Clarke have at least been feeding like a hundred hungry orphans or something that made more sense? 

_ Come on, Clarke. Please don’t make me do this. _

The initiate’s eyes darted from the holotags, to her, and then to his ghoul pit. What was she supposed to do? She couldn’t _force _him to do anything, especially not while his hand was still positioned over his holstered weapon. Picking him up and carrying him off to the Lancer-Captain wasn’t exactly an option. 

“Look, initiate, I have to report this either way...” 

“Do you think I could run away?” he asked, grasping for a way out. “Leave the Brotherhood, just like that? The Brotherhood doesn’t need me.” 

“What the – _no? _ I can’t let you do that. You’re just going to double down on your treason – with _more treason? _ If anyone ever caught you, they’d have to kill you on sight.” 

Oh, thank God. Clarke actually stopped to think about what she was saying for a minute, focusing again on the holotags that were still dangling. 

“Maybe you’re right. What do you think I should do, Knight?” 

“You should probably go turn yourself in.” 

“...I suppose so. The Captain will never understand, but...it’s the honorable thing to do. He might respect that, at least. I – I need a few minutes to get my thoughts together. Go on ahea -” 

“No, Clarke,” she interrupted. She’d finally gotten a handle on things and couldn’t afford to leave him alone where he might change his mind. “I’ll wait for you at the elevator and let you say your goodbyes, but we’re going to go together. I’ll walk you to Logistics, does that sound okay?” 

“O-okay.” 

“Alright, let me see that keycard, then.” 

Diana looked over her shoulder as she walked over toward the elevators, but her view was obscured. Danse was still back there somewhere behind those concrete walls, and she wondered how well he could hear their conversation. Did she do any of this right? What was Danse going to say? 

She found herself leaning against the cold metal of the elevator door, staring down at her boots while she waited for Clarke to come out. 

“It’s not so easy, is it?” he asked. 

“What’s that?” 

“Well, they were human_. Are_ human.” 

“The ferals? Yeah, they were, but...” 

Diana paused and chewed her lip, taking the time to swipe the keycard while she carefully gathered her own thoughts. Ghouls... 

She shuddered as the two stepped into the old, beaten up elevator, and Diana found the button that would take them up. “Clarke if I were a ghoul like your friend, I wouldn’t want to stick around for all of eternity once I went feral. I’d be gone. The parts of me that make me, well,_ me,_ would be gone, wouldn’t they? I don’t know about your friend, but I wouldn’t want to spend the rest of forever hurting people.”

“But what if we could change them back?”

“We can’t right now, though, can we? Right now, ferals still hurt people. Like Knight Rylan.”

Yeah, that’s right. It might have been mean, but she wasn’t going to let him dismiss Rylan’s death. The glint of the initiate’s hope sobered as they stepped out of the elevator, continuing their journey back through the old airport ruins. She kind of wanted to kick herself for bringing Rylan up, but she needed to be firm with Clarke. This couldn’t happen again. 

“You’re right. As long as they’re here, more Knights are going to die, aren’t they?” 

“They might,” she admitted, thankful that he finally understood. 

The rest of the long walk was spent in silence while Clarke tried to come to terms with his fate – it only took two minutes, but the schlep felt much longer while he carried the weight of his actions. He only spoke once they’d made it back to the terminal that housed the logistics detail. 

“Will you go back and do it, then?” he asked soberly. “Kill them? I don’t want them to send someone else that’s going to treat it like a game.” 

“Sure, I can do that for you. And you’ll go talk to Gavil? Pinky swear?” 

_ Nobody even knows what pinky swears are, Diana. _

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Okay, It’s a deal. One more thing, Clarke?” 

“Knight Carter?” 

“Maybe you should try to apologize to Knight Lucia, she’s worried about you.” 

“Thanks, Knight. Maybe you aren’t so bad.” 

Diana watched as the initiate disappeared through the door and in the direction of Knight-Sergeant Gavil’s post. She was glad that Clarke had asked her to go back to the ruins, that meant she didn’t have to go through the trouble of circling the entire airport to avoid him seeing her. She intended to go back anyway - Danse didn’t have a keycard. 

* * *

“Did you get Clarke over to Gavil for a statement?” 

Danse had ventured into the room, at some point, and was still rifling through the scene of the initiate’s crime when Diana returned. Clarke’s vantage point was littered with cans of Cram and several drained Nuka-Cola bottles, even some Quantums. He must have needed the caffeine, between pulling the night shift and trying to tame his...friends. 

“Mm-hmm.” 

“Why aren’t you back up reporting to Kells, then? I could have taken care of this mess.” 

“I thought I might come back for you. I have the keycard.” 

“Actually,” Danse leaned forward to open one of the drawers on a cluttered desk, producing more keycards from the inside and holding them up, “there appear to be several. He must have collected every one of them he could find to keep this whole operation a secret. You should head up.” 

“Yes, sir. Let me just -” she loaded a fresh fusion cell cartridge into her weapon, taking aim at one of the ferals in the room below._ Steady... _

One laser, right through the head. At least Clarke had the sense not to have tangled with any Glowing Ones...or would he have saved one of those, too? Thankfully, his mission hadn’t gotten far enough for them to find out.

“What are you doing?”

“Clarke asked me to take care of this part. He didn’t want them to send someone that would torture the ghouls.” 

“Carter, these _monstrosities_ don’t deserve that dignity.” 

Was she always going to irritate him? She wasn’t even disagreeing with him. 

“Paladin Danse, sir, with respect, I made Clarke a promise and I intend to keep it. You sent me in to talk him down, and talking him down meant agreeing to this.” 

_ Besides, I’ll waste less ammo if I take my time._

Her paladin paused his investigation and turned to look at her, keycards in one hand and cram in the other. He hadn’t been wearing his hood as much recently, and she caught herself staring. Anyway, no, he wasn’t mad, he was just...mentoring. Otherwise, she would have gotten a lecture. 

“I suppose I can respect that you're trying to keep your word.”

Diana returned to her task, aiming and taking another one of the monsters out, and asking questions between shots. 

“Paladin Danse?”

“Knight?”

“What would you have done differently?”

He glanced around the room, down into the pit, and back to her.

“I don’t think I would have handled it too much differently. He was a danger to himself, he was a danger to you, and despite that, you managed to get the best possible outcome. That said, I wouldn’t have sugar coated what was going to happen to these ghouls.” 

“Sir?”

“Yeah?”

“I said what I said because I knew I had backup hiding in the next room.” The woman gave him a half-smile, and returned to her task. “Dangerous frickin’ airhead,” she muttered before firing another shot. Diana may be able to empathize with Clarke, and even show him what she deemed was a much-needed kindness, but that still didn’t mean that she agreed with what he was doing down here.

“Did you just refer to Initiate Clarke as a ‘dangerous frickin’ airhead’?” 

“I didn’t mean to say that part out loud, but yes. Yes, I did.” 

Danse outright smiling was a rarity, but he did look amused. She was beginning to be able to tell because his eyes would light up, his brows would perk up a bit, and his face would ever so slightly relax. 

“You were purposely blowing up the automobiles in the garage on the way down here. Is that irony lost on you?” 

The man spoke the truth - she had tried to clear a pack of ferals in an attempt to be resourceful, maybe conserve some ammo. She might have blown up one or two cars. Or five…she hadn’t thought about the cars being in a line and setting off a chain reaction. He might have raised his voice a _little_ bit at that. 

“Paladin Danse, are you implying that I’m a ‘dangerous frickin airhead', too?” 

“Not at all. I’m just saying that we’re lucky that the whole airport didn’t collapse.” 

Diana fought off a smirk at that one. He was a dry one, wasn’t he? 

“In my defense, I’m not a dangerous airhead._ I _ am naïve and sweet.” _Jesus, did you really just say that? _ Diana had bettered quit while she was ahead, she was enjoying their newfound familiarity a little too much. She cleared her throat. “I, uh, learned my lesson, Paladin.” 

“And what would that lesson be?” 

“Only blow up the outside cars.” 

_ “Or -” _

“Or?” 

“Or, you could check your fire and blow up_ no_ cars.” 

“Your wisdom knows no bounds, sir.” 

_ Stop it._

The last hum of the lasers had sounded – no more feral ghouls were left, and she had no more quips for her superior. Another day, another assignment, as Danse would say. Still, Rylan’s holotags tucked safely in her pocket were beginning to feel heavy. 

Danse sighed, finished with his assessment of the evidence and with all of those key cards ready to deliver back to the Lancer-Captain. Who knew what was going to happen with this place now, would it be razed to the ground? Probably not, otherwise she would be allowed to explode some more cars. 

“Let’s get out of here and head back up to Kells, soldier. We need to report. Would you like me to take the tags?” 

Was her melancholy showing again? 

“No, sir. I want to do it.” 

They hadn’t been assigned soon enough to save him, and although there was no way she was responsible for this at all, it still stung a little. Knight Rylan...did anyone even know he was missing, yet? Sucking it up and returning the tags was the least she could do for the knight she had never met. 

* * *

With the investigation concluded, Diana had the rest of the day off, and she figured she would do a little bit of shopping to prepare for the next day. As far as Diana knew, she and Danse were going to go on patrol tomorrow, and that meant she needed to stock up. 

Ammo is expensive, as are recon suits. How the hell she had spent 212 caps... no. She decided that her day ended down 262 caps because she owed Danse for the suit she was wearing. She hadn’t known that the uniforms weren’t standard issue equipment when he’d given her one, dang it, otherwise she would have been happy to suffer and hold up her pants for another two weeks. 

And, _on top of that,_ she still owed him snack cakes, which were turning out to be hard to find aboard the airship. 

Diana carted her haul up the stairs to her bunk, carefully placing her new things in her footlocker. She didn’t have much inside because she didn’t have much to her name, but she had been hanging on to a couple of things she’d found on a mission she’d done for Haylen: 

A box of cigars, a bottle of Nuka-Cherry, and a copy of Grognak issue #4: Blood on the Harp. These things should come in handy. 

It was time for her to go and make a deal with the devil – all over some sweets. 

“Morgan.” 

“Carter.” 

The two stood opposite one another in front of Ashton and Peter’s bunk beds, sizing each other up. She still hadn’t completely forgiven the young lancer for getting her tipsy and then having the bright idea to unleash Danse on her when she was alone. Even... even if it was nice to get to know him better. 

Still, she felt no inclination to give Ashton any details about their conversation - he still didn’t know anything about her memory loss and she didn’t feel like telling the whole world about it. She also didn’t want to talk about Fort Strong and her and Danse’s jump from the Prydwen – those were shared things, almost-secret things, and not fully hers to divulge. 

And then there was the creeping thought of Danse with snowflakes in his hair, grinning at her from the other side of the walkway... 

_ Why are you even thinking about that? _

Their standoff was over almost as soon as it had begun. Ashton was all wry, teasing smirks and Diana was all stupid grins and eyerolls, but he never asked. 

“Miss Diana, why do you have a box of cigars? You ain’t gonna need ‘em.” 

“I don’t know, I brought everything I had that might be worth bartering.” 

“Well, I don’t think my guy needs ‘em, but you can always bring ‘em along I guess...” 

Who the heck has a snack cake “guy”? She let her footsteps fall silently behind his as he led her up the staircase toward the uppermost section of the Prydwen. Were they going out to the forecastle or something? Is that where all of the Prydwen’s secrets were kept? 

Nope. They turned off in the other direction, clinking down the catwalk and through the tunnels made in the metal containers that held the gas. Ashton glanced at her, and she clutched her possessions closer to her chest. 

“Woman, why do you look so nervous?” 

“I don’t know,” she whispered back, “this feels kind of wrong. You made it sound like there was a black market or something.” 

Ashton stopped in his tracks to turn and face her, and she nearly bumped into him. 

“Good Lord, woman, what in the hell kinda kingpin do you think we’re goin’ to see that runs a bootleg_ snack cake _trade?” 

“A terrifying one,” she answered, voice still low. 

That answer drew out one of his usual raucous laughs, and the two shared some stupid giggles while they ventured onward, until they came to the very end of the walkway and there was no place left to go. Ashton stepped to the side, revealing a squire and another little girl drawing rocket ships and kittens with some chalk. Goodness. How young did they start these squires? 

“Diana, I’d like you to meet your kingpins. Squire Williams, miss Lily, this is Knight Carter.” 

“Oh, wow! Lily, this is the lady I was telling you about!” 

The young girl turned to whisper something in the squire’s ear. “What?” He asked her. “Vertibird angel? I heard it was deathclaws.” 

Diana had to chuckle to herself. That rumor had made it to these two, too huh? All of the way from Diamond City – she was going to have to share the tale with Haylen and Broussard the next time she saw them, seeing as they were apparently famous now. Come to think of it, she did recognize the squire a little bit. 

“Are you the squire that was posted outside of the command deck the other day?” 

“Yes ma’am! Sorry, ma’am. It was none of my business,” he blushed, nudging a piece of chalk across the floor a little bit with his boot. 

“No, it’s okay. I’m Knight Carter. Are you both who I see about trading for snack cakes?” 

The little girl whispered something else into the squire’s ear. 

“Yeah! Uh...yes, ma’am. Whatcha got?” he asked her. 

Diana passed over her Nuka-Cherry and Grognak for them to appraise, and they did so with shrewd little looks across their faces. It was a heck of a sight, and clearly not their first deal – Proctor Teagan ought to watch out for his job. After their careful inspection, the two looked at one another in wordless agreement. 

“We can do two boxes of the Fancy Lads for the Grognak, unless...” 

Lily nodded at the squire.

“Are the cigars for trade?”

Diana was taken aback. “Hold on, aren’t you two a little young to be...” Ashton cut her off, shaking his head at her. What the hell kind of friend had she made that approved of small children smoking cigars? “Ashton Morgan, these children do not need to take up smoking!” 

“She doesn’t want ‘em for herself, Diana,” he said, rolling his eyes before turning to the little girl. “You want ‘em to give to Elder Maxson, dontcha?” 

The little girl smiled back at him. What? 

“We can add another box if you’re willing to trade them,” Squire Williams added. 

“Deal,” Ashton answered for her, and the two shook on it. 

Williams handed her Nuka-Cherry back, along with_ four _boxes of the snack cakes. “In good faith, in case you find any more comics.” 

“Uh, well, thank you. For your business.” Diana responded, and Ashton whisked her back in the other direction while the two kids whispered excitedly about their new comic book. She still wasn’t completely sure what had just happened with the cigars and the sheer amount of snacks they had on them, it had all just gone so fast. 

“You look awful confused.” 

“Well, yeah. I had trouble finding just one box of these damn cakes, how do they have four spare ones lying around?” 

“Because squires are young and wide-eyed and know how to game the system. Folks take pity on ‘em and give ‘em sweets all of the time, they sure as hell ain’t hurtin’ for the things. I think Petey’s got just about a lifetime supply of Nukas stashed.” 

Well, that made sense, she guessed. She would probably be guilty of giving the squires sweets, too, if she’d had any before now. 

They headed back toward the bunks, and Diana clutched her snack cakes closer to her chest, trying not to smile too obviously. Four boxes? Well, now she had a stash for the next time. And if there was no next time... they were still pretty good, and they never expire, so there was that. 

All in all, it wasn’t a terrible day, until Diana tripped and skipped a step on the staircase. 

Ashton caught her left arm to steady her, and the touch was fine. But... the fabric snagged. The fabric_ rippe__d__._ Diana froze. 

White hot flashes of memories just out of her reach burned through her body when the sound of shattered glass reached her ears, and the tearing of fabric left her feeling as though she were simultaneously drowning. She was rooted behind the white walls, caged like an animal. _You have to fight. _

Where were these thoughts even_ coming _from? She still couldn’t understand them. She still couldn’t see the faces she so desperately needed to see. 

If she could just see the faces...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had “The Hype” by Twenty One Pilots stuck in my head with this, it’s a goal of mine to build Ashton and Diana’s friendship a little bit here toward the end and I’ll go into it more in the next chapter. I know that “The Hype” is about the band’s struggle with fame or whatever, but I like the theme that it has about friends understanding each other. “Nice to know my kind will be on my side.” 
> 
> And then a quite literal “sometimes I feel cold, even paralyzed.” 
> 
> So, Duty or Dishonor. I took some serious creative liberties with it, clearly, while trying to keep the spirit of it alive. I wanted to give Carter a little bit of a struggle with someone else’s perception of humanity, even though she has a pretty similar one. She’s Brotherhood, now, but not just “exterminating filth” like all of the damn soldiers make offhand comments about in-game. It's more about preventing loss of humanity and the atrocities committed against...well, the whole world. 
> 
> I wanted her to be mildly irritated and confused by Clarke, because he took it further than he should’ve - but that’s the point. Where does one draw the line? What causes a man to break? Everyone has a different threshold, but that doesn’t mean you can’t extend kindnesses and try to understand each other. At the end of it all, she’s still on Team Clarke, not only because he’s Brotherhood, but because he’s a human being with human emotions.


	21. Scribbles

_ “Hey, what the fuck?” _

Diana’s Nuka-Cherry had slipped from her hand when she stumbled and the glass shattered where it dropped, drenching some sorry initiate that had the the misfortune of walking right under the two as soda spilled through the grates. 

“Sorry,” Ashton hollered, turning back to make sure the clumsy fool had gotten her sea-legs, or air-legs, back. 

She was stuck somewhere else though. He knew the glassy eyes and cold sweats, he knew the white knuckles, he knew what it was to be stuck in a place. Same place he went to if he got called a “pretty boy”, but at least Diana hadn’t snapped his neck. Had he caused it? What in the hell was it? 

“Breathe, darlin’, nice and slow. I need you here with me.” 

She was listening. 

“Shit,” he muttered to himself, rubbing his neck while he thought on his feet. “Let’s get you out of here. Would that be okay, Diana?” 

She nodded, beginning to focus again on the world around her. They really ought to get out of the staircase, anyhow, and it was always good to ask permission. 

“Alright, good. Do you need anything?” 

“Snack cakes.” She had dropped them, and noticed. Awareness was good, answers were even better - even barely-answers. Diana was coming back to him. Easin’ a little, lookin’ at his face, grey eyes no longer so cloudy. 

“I’ve got your snack cakes. C’mon. Should we go sit down?” 

“No. I don’t know, I -” she shook her head, almost as though she were trying to shake off the feeling. He began to lead her down the stairs only for her to stop again and look back. “Let me borrow your cleaning rag.” 

He reached for his back pocket where the cloth was always stashed and held it out. Leave it to Diana to worry about the spilled Nuka and the snack cakes, of all things. Her brow knotted in concentration as she mopped up what little was left of the fizzy, sticky spill - scrubbing the anger from her mind, to boot. 

“I need to_ go_. I’ve got to write this down or something.” 

_ Write this down? _ What the - ? 

“Diana, wait,” he began. He wasn’t going to ask her too many questions, that’s just not how the two operated. He didn’t want to trigger her again, though, if he could help it. “Before you go, I need to know what I did wrong.” 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, did you? My...my sleeve ripped. It wasn’t even_ you_, you were just…” 

“The rip?” 

“Yeah. When it ripped - I was fine until it ripped. I’m so sorry.” 

“Don’t you apologize, darlin'. It ain’t your fault, it’s mine.” 

“It’s not though. I don’t know whose fault it is.” Bless her heart, she looked as confused as a Brahmin whose heads were trying to go two different ways, unsure whether she wanted to fight or cry. The woman reached out for his hand and squeezed it as a thank you since she couldn’t figure out how to string any more words together, and then took off in the direction of her bunk. 

That was just fine. If she needed space, he could just check on her later, if that’s what she wanted. Or, they could pretend this never happened, like most everybody did. Why was it so comfortable for everyone to dance around each other’s truths? 

Well, Ashton reckoned it wasn’t so easy to be vulnerable. Leaving any little scraps of yourself exposed to the world, trusting folks, meant it was much easier to get hurt. Ashton, himself, trusted very few – turns out it gets incredibly hard to after you find out you can’t trust your own parents. 

There was Maxson, who he trusted with his life. He owed the Elder and the Brotherhood, simple as that. Without Maxson vouching for him all them years ago...well, he wasn’t so sure him and Pete would have had much of a future. And, they also occasionally shoot the shit and had a drink behind closed doors while Maxson stewed about tactics or budgets or what-have-you. 

He trusted Ingram. She had a soft spot for Ashton, probably, and definitely Petey. She always let the kid hang around in the repair bay and help her out. Folks that were kind to his brother were at the very least alright in his book, and Ingram was the only person aboard this vessel that knew anything about the Morgans and the raiders. 

Besides those two, he trusted his brother. The two watched out for each other. Ashton did his best to take care of him, and although Ashton had no idea what the hell he was doing, somehow Peter managed to turn out to be a pretty damn good kid. 

Ashton reckoned he didn’t really need much more than that, he had plenty of people that he fully trusted. He didn’t have to extend that kind of trust to Diana if he didn’t want to. The beauty of their friendship had come from being comfortable around one another without asking the hard questions. 

It was easier, in a lot of ways, to be a social butterfly with a lot of superficial friendships. Baring your soul...that concept was for people that were braver than he was. 

* * *

“Hey, Petey.” 

_ Petey. _Squire Morgan was trying to get people to stop calling him that. Well, except for Lily, but she was still little so she was an exception. 

“Come on, Ash, I’m 12. It’s either Pete or Peter.” 

His brother folded up his arms while he looked over at him with a pursed lip, pretending to be offended while he looked for some sort of comeback. For a big brother, he sure was a baby, sometimes. 

“So, you reckon you’re grown now, do you? Well then, Squire Morgan, all I wanted to do was ask if you needed anything for tomorrow, but if that’s how you want to be…” 

_ What’s tomorrow? _

“Ash...” 

“Don’t you call me that, now, I’m grown. That’s Lancer Morgan to the likes of you.” 

Peter rolled his eyes at his older brother’s antics before giving in to a little smile. At least he had a brother that cared, even if Ashton was a pain in the butt. 

Peter really looked up to him – he had always put Peter’s best interests ahead of his own, mostly. If he thought about it, he’d already spent more than half of his life being cared for by Ashton instead of their parents, and from what the boy could remember? Well, Ashton was the best “parent” he’d had. 

“What do I need for tomorrow?” 

“Hmm, right, about that. You know you’re goin’ on patrol tomorrow?” 

“Really, Ash?” the boy asked. He was doing his best to stay composed, but he had stars in his eyes. 

“Well, on account of me bein’ your guardian and getting briefed, yeah. Really, really, kid. Possibly even an overnight.” 

Patrol? Peter hadn’t gone on a Commonwealth patrol yet, the Lancer-Captain and Elder Maxson had decided it was initially a little too dangerous for squires to be going out. Now that the Brotherhood was taking up regular patrol routes...yeah, okay, Peter probably should have pieced together that he’d be going out. 

Anyway, he was pretty stoked. The Commonwealth looked like it was a lot different than the Capital Wasteland. It was a little bit less destroyed, for sure, and he had been wondering what it was like out there beyond the metal confines of the Prydwen. 

Besides, hands-on education was the best kind. Peter enjoyed learning, in general, but anything that would help his education as a squire, he devoured. 

He knew basic first aid thanks to a crash course from Knight-Captain Cade himself - one day when the med bay was kind of slow, he’d let the squires in to show them around. A few of them even got to administer some stimpaks to a couple of soldiers with some cuts and bruises. 

Peter also knew a little bit about which plants were edible, about how to build a fire... basic survival things that would come in handy one of these days. And on top of all that, he was also very proud of the fact that he could field-strip a laser rifle in under a minute - not that he’d necessarily be allowed to use those skills while he was out. Squires were supposed to be observers. Take notes, stay out of the firefight, don’t die, blah blah blah. 

“Cool.” 

“Whoa there, buddy, try and contain your excitement,” Ashton teased. “Anyhow, I’m fixin’ to head downstairs for a spell, you need anything?” 

“Nah, I’m good. I’ve got to go find WIlliams here in a minute.” 

“Alright, then.” 

* * *

If quiet enthusiasm was a thing, Ashton reckoned that Peter had it down to a science. It made him chuckle quietly as he moseyed back on up the stairs. He’d spent some time drinking and visiting on the rec deck, and now he had a date with his pillow. Call him an old man if you’d like but Ashton’d had too many late nights lately, between catching up with folks and hanging out with Diana. And Maxson. 

And Ingram. 

And then bumping into Danse, too, the other night... 

Come to think of it, Ashton ought to start socializing more with morning people. Or at least more people that stuck closer to his preferred, and very respectable, bedtime of around 2100 hours. 

“Ashton.” 

Diana was propped up on one elbow, scribbling something down in a notebook while she was sprawled across his bunk. Peter, meanwhile was up top “studying” - he had a copy of an old vertibird manual that he always hid his comics in, since them things were the _ real _ black-market contraband aboard the Prydwen. If Quinlan found out the kids had a comic book, he’d have himself a hissy fit. 

If Ashton had to guess, the squires had swapped comics at some point and that it was Peter’s turn with the Grognak that Diana had traded for snack cakes. 

And speaking of Diana, why was he not surprised that she was scribblin’ away in a diary. She_ would _keep a diary. Damn thing was probably full of pretty words and pretty songs, and weird questions that she’d want to remember to ask later. 

The woman scooted herself over, making enough space for him to sit next to her. Well, he had resolved to check on her, hadn’t he? He supposed he could join her for a spell, not that she’d left him a lot of choice since she was in his bed. It still wasn’t his target bedtime yet, after all. Folks were still milling about, drinking, taking showers and the like... 

Doodling little hearts in their notebooks. 

“Miss Diana.” 

“Here,” the woman leaned over the side of the bed, reaching for a little box she had tucked under. “I washed this for you.” 

That’s right, she still had his cleaning rag, and she’d even gone through the trouble of washing it. This was the cleanest the damn thing had been in a while, being returned almost completely to the orange color it had started off as. Usually he just rinsed it off, wrung it out, and moved on with his life. It ain’t like it needed to look nice, all he ever did with it was wipe grease off of stuff or clean off his knife or whatever. 

“You know, you didn’t have to clean it.” 

“Yes, I did.” 

“Nah, the Nuka would’ve helped pick up the grease.” 

They were both stalling. Really, who in the hell makes small talk about cleaning rags? 

“Hey, miss Diana? Have you been briefed on your patrol tomorrow?” Ashton asked. 

This wasn’t a conversation that he really wanted to have, but he deemed it necessary. 

“Not fully, Danse was going to in the morning. Why?” 

“Well...you’re taking Pete out with you, and I...” 

That stirred some curiosity in the boy that was above the two, who was being more of a busybody than Ashton had given him credit for. Peter leaned over the bunk, popping his head down to look at the two of them, dark hazel eyes gleaming with delight. 

“You didn’t say I was going on patrol with Paladin Danse!” 

_ Well, there’s the excitement I was lookin’ for earlier. _

“And_ me!” _ Diana replied to the boy, who rolled his eyes at her before grinning back at the two of them. 

“Oh, darlin’, he doesn’t care a lick about patrolling with you. You may as well be chopped liver,” he chuckled, perfectly happy to have a quick distraction. “Yeah, that’s right, boy, you’re rollin’ with the big guns this time around.” 

The kiddo added a “yessssss” before retreating back to his world above, returning to finish the comic book before he’d fall asleep for the night. 

Ashton sighed, feeling a bit defeated. Turned out he was going to have to bare his soul - just a little bit though. He didn’t want to around the kid at all, especially now that Ashton knew he might be paying attention. 

Diana studied Ashton’s face a little, and flipped a page in her little notebook before scribbling something and nudging him to look. 

_ What’s wrong?_ it said. 

Were they really doin’ this? Swapping notes like squires? Well, writing it out might actually be easier than sayin’ anything, and that way Peter couldn’t hear ‘em talkin’. He decided he’d sprawl out next to her so they could write, crossing his ankles in the air so that his legs wouldn’t hang off of the bed. 

** _ Look, the kid has to come back in one piece. _ **

_ “Ashton...” _ she whispered, but he shook his head at her and glanced up toward the top bunk. 

_ He’ll be safe with us __– _she wrote back. 

** _ I don’t know that. _ **

_ It’s Danse. Have you __seen__ him fight? _

Ashton knew Danse was one of the good ones - hell everybody was always going on about it since his mission here in the ‘Wealth had been such a wild success. And yes, Morgan had seen him fight when they’d been stuck at Beantown. And then Diana? Well, she had good aim. She did shoot down that raider that was about to take out Walker’s fusion core... 

** _ Peter’s all I’ve got. He has to come back._**

Ashton had to look away. This was getting to be too real for him – sure, the whole ship knew that Peter always came first when it came to the Morgans, but this whole exchange still made him feel...naked. Like he was in a vertibird with no minigun, and this still wasn’t even his whole life story. 

Diana nudged him, and when he still wouldn’t look at her, nudged him again. 

“Here, want to know one of my secrets?” 

She’d had to lean in close to whisper, knowing damn well he didn’t want Peter listening in to any of this, and Ashton caved. She flipped the pages back to the beginning, and what was written on them made no sense at all to him. 

Strange, disembodied scraps of sentences littered the first couple of pages, and lots of question marks. Things like: 

_ Sugar bombs? _

_ Nate tried to drive off of the bridge after the funeral. _

_ “You have to fight” <- _ _ what does this mean???? _ **_Important. _ **

The woman added another quick scribble for him on the bottom of the page, accenting it with a loudly written underline. 

_ Memory loss__. _

It was a simple sentence, but the two words brought it all together for him. Diana wasn’t just some sweet, doe-eyed vaultie. It explained why she asked some of the things she did, it explained why she looked so confused when you tried to ask her any kind of personal questions, or anything in general. 

** _ How bad is it? _ **

_ That’s pretty much it up there. _

Alright, he wouldn’t press it further. She’d already divulged more about herself in a couple of scribbles than he thought he’d ever be capable of trusting her with, and she got it. She flipped back to the page their conversation was on. 

_ This stays between us. Haylen and Cade, Danse, you, and sort of Rhys. That’s it. _

** _ Rhys? Really? _ **

_ Had no choice. _

She rolled her eyes, and then gave him back the pen. She took his hand in hers, and circled one of the sentences she’d written earlier: 

_ He’ll be safe with us. _

She leaned in again. “I promise.” 

Ashton Morgan did not do trust and he did not do promises, but she was trying to be gracious. He felt a shade better. The baby bird was going to have to leave the nest at some point anyway - he’d be a full-blown initiate within a couple of years at this rate, and likely a Knight not too long after. It wasn’t like he hadn’t gone on patrol before, anyway. 

Still, Ashton could not handle the vulnerability, and flipped through her notebook a bit to find something he had thought he’d noticed. He was right, and shot a wicked, teasing grin at her before pointing to something she had written. 

“You’re an ass.” 

“I reckon I deserve that.” 

For Ashton, the irritated glower was much easier to take than her kindness, but she was a decent person. She wouldn’t stay mad at him for too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It gets so easy to see someone that is a textbook extrovert and just assume that they're fine because they're outgoing and friendly and flirtatious.  
Morgan has problems forming close bonds between his raider trauma and the fact that, yeah, he didn't trust his dad at all, and over time has come to realize that even though he still very much so loves his mom, she didn't exactly stand up for him and Peter until the very last second  
and when she stuck up for him, she died anyway.


	22. Synergy

Cursed unpredictable wasteland weather. 

Danse had planned to depart the Prydwen at 0700 hours, closer to when the sun would have risen, but he had no intentions of making a squire trek through a dust storm without the proper gear. Respirators did not come squire-sized in the Brotherhood. 

The sun was already starting to hang low in the skies before Danse, Carter, and Squire Morgan were on the home stretch leading to their target. If they had been able to leave early like Danse wanted rather than having to wait until nearly 1300 hours to leave, they may well already be heading back toward the Prydwen. 

“Carter, what time is it?” Danse called back. The woman had been happily trailing in formation behind Danse and the squire, faintly humming and enjoying their patrol as though they were taking an afternoon stroll. The frigid air and the bits of dust that still lingered in the sky didn’t seem to bother her at all. 

She had elected to carry her helmet rather than wearing it, saying that she wanted to feel the wind in her hair or something of that nature, so she couldn’t provide him with an immediate answer. Her hair was up, how she was supposed to feel the wind in it was beyond him. 

“1524, sir.” 

Damn winter. There just wasn’t enough daylight this time of year, but at least they were well past the solstice, now, and the days would gradually start to get longer. Right now, though, they only had a couple of hours of it left. 

Depending on how well the remainder of their mission went, they were likely going to have to find shelter – the idea of travelling through the hazards of the wastes with a squire at night? When their visual acuity would be compromised? 

Danse had no intention of putting a child at that kind of risk. They needed to get moving. 

“Let’s double time it. Come on.” 

* * *

“Are you ready for this part of the mission, Squire?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good. Stay out of sight, we shouldn’t take too long inside. Good luck, soldier.” 

Squire Morgan had been deposited near a large boulder on a hill while Carter coddled him and made certain he had everything he needed. The squire would be able to see their target from his vantage point, and the rock formation would provide decent cover. Squires were always equipped with a flare gun in the event that worse came to worse, and Danse was confident that he and Carter could provide a rapid response. The child ought to be relatively safe. 

Danse and his knight pressed forward until they were finally just outside of their target: West Everett Estates. It was an old neighborhood, still under construction when the bombs fell from the looks of it. Several dwellings dotted the age-old streets, ravaged by time and raiders and mutants, destroyed a little more with each battle. 

It was a shame. The neighborhood was probably very nice, once, and they were only here to wear it down further. For good reason. 

From what was covered in the briefing, the place was supposed to be crawling with mutant filth. There was very little wonder why they had been sent to this location. It wasn’t far from the airport – in fact, it was close enough that a hive of these foul beasts could prove more than a nuisance for passing Brotherhood patrols. 

It was also the perfect scenario for an ambush, with the way the buildings were spread and all of the rusted vehicles strewn about. Several of the freaks of nature could be lying in wait, ready to strike from any corner. 

“Carter, helmet,” the man ordered in hushed tones. She moved a few wayward strands of hair from her face and gave him a thoughtful nod as she placed it on her head. The two ventured cautiously forward, picking their way around makeshift fortifications and through a rusted gate. 

It was high time to reduce this place to rubble and ash. 

Danse’s ears were ringing thanks to the cacophony of exploding vehicles and mutant death roars. He could taste the iron of the blood and the salt of the sweat on his lips. How many of these goddamn atrocities were still hiding here? They’d taken a handful already. 

He leaned his head back against the rusted blue building where he was taking cover – time to find out. He peered around a corner and across a yard-turned-farm-plot, trying to get an idea of how many of these freaks were left. It appeared that there were only a couple – not bad. 

Most of this lot had melee weapons, which the abominations seemed to favor. They were the easy ones to deal with. The ones with projectile weapons were far more vexing, and Danse left his cover to fire at one of them. 

Outstanding. Another one down. 

However, his small victory was interrupted when he picked up the sounds of rapid beeping. 

_ No. _

“Damn it, Carter, watch your step!” 

Not another land mine. No, she couldn’t end up like Brach...her helmet was on still wasn’t it? What if it wasn’t? No. Get it together. 

The promised explosion went off. 

“Sir, I’m right here. It was another mutant.” 

He searched wildly to find her voice from her cover behind him, but instead of Carter he was caught remembering Haylen and Brach. Haylen had been bent over Brach, frantically trying to cauterize his wounds. Stem the bleeding... no, he was bleeding out. 

Danse was rooted to the spot while he was caught in the moment. There had been so much blood, even with the stims and Haylen’s quick thinking. His heart raced. 

_ “They look to you for guidance, and you protect them in turn.” _

He was a hypocrite and a damn failure. 

“Damnit!” Carter screeched, diving for the Paladin while a massive projectile whizzed overhead. 

_ You’ve got to be kidding me. _ Mutants were too stupid to notice their own traps and Carter had just saved his neck because of it, having to throw herself at full force to knock him out of the way. She sat behind a wall to catch her breath and he followed suit, heaving himself up and crouching next to her to catch his own. 

“Are you okay?” she panted. He should be the one asking. Damn it. 

“Perfectly fine, Carter. Thank you.” At least he was better with a fib than she was. 

“How do they always get rocket launchers?” 

“Damned if I know.” 

He hoisted himself up and peered back around the wall, reaching into his armor for a grenade. He waited for the numbskull to send another missile their way... 

_ Shoop - _ the sound of the missile leaving the barrel. 

“’Nade out!” 

As long as it didn’t beep, he could handle it. 

He ripped the pin from the explosive with his teeth, pitching it over the farm plot in the direction the missiles had been coming from, and from it came a satisfying boom while an injured mutant roared in reply. 

He and Carter locked eyes and nodded. 

“On my mark, Carter.” 

“You point, I shoot this time?” 

“Damn right. Go!” 

* * *

Through the lenses of his binoculars, Squire Morgan could see a mutant with a rocket launcher aiming in the direction that Paladin Danse and Knight Carter were taking cover in. 

Was that a grenade that the Paladin just threw? Sweet. 

A lot had happened, and they’d been down there a long time, but moments after the smoke cleared and Paladin Danse and Knight Carter had gotten the missile-shooting mutant, it looked like maybe the fight was over. There wasn’t anything moving and he couldn’t hear any gunshots, but he still couldn’t tell if Diana and Paladin Danse were headed this way yet since it was dark and there was so much junk in the streets. 

The squire lifted himself a bit from where he’d been lying prone and observing, and when he still couldn’t quite see, crawled a couple of yards up the hill past the boulder he’d been taking cover behind. 

Yeah, it looked like they were making their way towards him. He sat up and dusted himself off, taking note of his surroundings when he spotted a shadowy figure off in the distance. He immediately hit the dirt – but the figure wasn’t moving. He withdrew his binoculars to focus on the shadow. 

Oh, hey, he should tell the Paladin about this. 

“All clear, Squire! You can come back down now.” Paladin Danse called up to the squire, who had just finished dusting himself back off after his brief moment of panic. 

“Yes, sir!” 

Peter slid down the hill from his perch, hustling to meet his two mentors for the evening. 

“This way. Knight Carter may have found some shelter for the night.” 

Peter fell in formation between the Knight and the Paladin, taking note of the battle site while they trekked through the neighborhood and toward a shed nearby. He counted that they'd killed at least fourteen mutants within the walls of the ancient suburb. The heavy stomping of his mentors while they walked reminded him...

“Paladin Danse?” 

“Squire?” 

“I think I saw a suit of abandoned power armor back over the hill.” 

Paladin Danse paused to offer Peter a smile for his observation.

“Outstanding work. We’ll have to investigate in the morning on our way back through the area.” 

* * *

You know what? Having Squire Morgan around was a damn pleasure. The child was observant and respectful, eager to learn... when the subject of watch came up between himself and Carter, the squire had even asked if it would be alright to join for a while. It was Carter’s idea for Danse to take the first watch - she had suggested that the squire might enjoy learning from a Paladin, and Danse was happy to impart some of his wisdom on the boy. 

The two proceeded to spend part of Danse’s watch going over some of the fire-team tactics that the squire had noticed Danse utilizing during the firefight with Carter. Mostly, they talked about the advantages of bounding overwatch to move across a battlefield. 

“The gist of it is, in a two-man team, you want one person providing cover fire while the other moves forward, and then you switch every few yards or so. Ideally, you synergize well with your partner and the movements are more fluid.” 

“Synergize, sir?”

Hmm, how to explain synergy to a squire?

"If you synergize well with someone, it means that you make a solid team. You recognize the benefit of your differences and play on each other’s strengths.” 

“Oh, okay. And the bounding tactic is safer for movement?” 

“Precisely. It makes movement across the field slower than if you were to charge, but you always have each other’s backs that way.” 

“Got it.” 

The clock was just past 2300 hours, plenty late for a squire to have been up, and Danse noticed the youngster trying to stifle a yawn. 

“You should go to bed, squire. We need to make our move for the Prydwen at first light. You know, you’ll make a fine knight one of these days, Morgan.” 

“You think so, sir?” 

“Absolutely.” 

The squire beamed at the Paladin’s comment, and Danse chuckled to himself when he noticed the skip in the boy’s step as he made it toward the back portion of the shelter. 

A while after the paladin had sent the squire off and it sounded like the child had fallen asleep, his knight slid out of bed and tiptoed through the bunker to the front where Danse was posted, stopping next to him. 

“Danse,” she whispered, drawing his gaze up to her. 

“Yes?” 

“Why didn’t you switch with me?” 

There were several reasons. One being that he could hear her shifting on the mattress and sighing aggravatedly to herself here and there, and once possibly startling herself awake. After she battled with herself for a while and had finally begun to rest, he thought he could afford her the leniency. 

It wasn’t that he wasn’t tired, in fact he was nearing exhaustion. It was just that he wasn’t so certain how restful his own sleep would be, and there was a dull throbbing in the back of his head to boot. 

“I wanted to make sure that Squire Morgan was safe. Personally.” 

“Well, I’d be more than happy to take the post now, sir. I am capable of pulling my weight.” 

“I don’t doubt it.” 

Still, he stayed, moving his eyes back to the hatch that led out of the basement and trying to keep his ears trained to the sounds outside. This added anxiety was precisely why he thought that squires didn’t belong on a warship, especially given that he’d taken a liking to the squire. 

Meanwhile, his knight went back and worked her way through the room, examining the relics left behind by whoever it was that had taken up residence in this bunker. Danse hadn’t really paid much attention to any of it, but Diana took her time. 

He could see no reason for her to be getting to know all of this junk so intimately. 

A soft gasp drew his attention away from the hatch and back to Diana, who was leaning over the terminal in the bunker, completely mesmerized by whatever was on the screen. She looked...different, in the soft green glow of the terminal, with her hair down and her boots still unlaced. After a few moments passed, she ejected a holotape from the terminal, placing it in one of her pockets as she crossed the room. 

“So, do you plan on trading me?” 

“No.” 

“Would you feel any better if I did a perimeter sweep?” 

Would he feel better? No, he wouldn’t. Was his unease really that obvious? A perimeter check wasn’t a bad idea, though. Who knew if something was still lurking out there – he needed to remain vigilant. 

“I’ll do it, Carter.” 

“Danse, you don’t have to do everything yourself.” 

On the contrary, he felt like he did, because it was the easiest way to be sure that nothing went wrong. The woman drew her hair into her usual messy updo and laced her boots, pausing in front of him on her way toward the hatch. Forcing his gaze, this time, rather than letting him worry alone.

“Danse?” 

The way she spoke his name was hushed, gentle. Asking for permission.

“You don’t need to go alone, Diana. I'll come with you.”

His knight paused again just after they’d exited the bunker, loading that holotape she’d found into her pip-boy. 

“Diana?” 

“Mhm?” 

“Why do you even bother with those holotapes?”

There was a spark in her eye when she smiled back at his question.

“I’ll show you.” 

She did a quick check of the area just outside of the shed that housed the bunker entrance – just to be sure there weren’t any surprises in the immediate vicinity, and pressed play on the device when she drew nearer to him.

_“Mama, this is David. The bad men came back. I saw them shoot mister Lance and he fell off the roof. Michael said he'd be okay, but he isn't moving.”_   
  
_“David, come on. Dad said we have to grab our stuff.”_   
  
_“No! I have to leave a note for mama so she can find us. Stop it!”_

The exchange was heart-rending, even without whatever terminal entries Diana had been reading to supplement the tale. 

“I started collecting these tapes because I was looking for music. I haven’t had much luck, but I like hearing all of their stories,” she confessed, letting one of her signature wistful looks play across her face. 

He couldn’t understand how anyone could stand to wear their heart on their sleeve - 

“That’s what I fight for, Danse.” 

\- but it was, admittedly, kind of charming. And, he more-or-less fought for the same reasons, although he didn’t generally take as much time to dwell on it as she did. He fought for justice, to set right the wrongs of the past and prevent the exploitation of technology for anyone else’s personal gain.

She was fighting to protect everyone that had been left behind. To protect them from feeling any more pain than they already had to.

_ Synergy._

He wanted to tell her about Cutler, but how was he supposed to go about this? 

“Would it be possible to speak...off the record?” he breathed. Talking about this made him nervous, the memories weren't something he particularly enjoyed reliving.

“Always. I already made a pinky swear to keep your secrets, remember?” 

The thought made him smile. No, he hadn’t forgotten that. 

“Thank you. None of this is easy for me to say, so I hope you’ll bear with me as I try to get through it.” 

And what did he tell her? Not what he had meant to tell her, that’s for damn sure. Rather than breathing a single word about his friend, he ended up rambling about how well she had adapted to the Brotherhood’s ideals. He cursed himself internally for his inability to be concise and say what he meant when it came down to personal things. 

“Danse?” 

“Yeah?” 

“That’s not all you wanted to say, is it?” 

“N-no...I admit, I’m not very good at this sort of thing.” 

“That’s okay. Take your time.” 

Cutler. 

Danse had spent so much time alone when he was young, and Cutler was the first real friend he could remember ever making. It’s not like friends were particularly easy to come by when you had no family and had to fight to survive in the rubble that was once Washington D.C., but Cutler? 

They watched out for each other, enlisted together, had harebrained adventures together. They’d spent days pushing each other to be better soldiers and nights drinking before Cutler would inevitably go home with whoever had the misfortune of being his flavor-of-the-week. 

And then...the mutants got to him. Danse spent_ weeks_ searching for Cutler and his team, and it was all for _nothing. _

God DAMN mutant bastards. Why would anyone purposely unleash F.E.V. upon the world? What kind of depraved monster even came up with that idea? 

And then Danse found Cutler and he had to...he had to... 

_ “Put him down.” _

“Oh, Danse...” 

Before he could even understand what was happening, his Knight was in his personal space, embracing him as he stood there rigid, trying to process all of the anger and hopelessness he still felt to this day. 

He wasn’t expecting something as brazen as a hug, but it was...nice. Enough to relax into, a little bit. He admitted that at this point, with all that they had divulged to one another and been through in the couple of months that he’d known her, that he considered her, well, a good friend. 

She made him feel more human, sometimes, and he liked that about her. She was a friend that he didn’t want to lose, like he thought he might have earlier with the land mine. 

“I don’t want to go through that again.” 

“Don’t worry, Danse, you won’t have to. I care about you way too much for that to happen.” 

What a nice sentiment. 

She had already let him go well before her statement and had turned away to look outside. It wasn’t easy for Danse to open up about, well, anything, but Diana was so warm, and patient when it came to his blathering. 

“From one soldier to another, it’s good to know our bond is…” 

She had glanced back at him, cheeks pink from the cold, studying his…response…? 

“…as strong…as…” 

Danse stopped and she smiled back at him. Why was she looking at him like…? 

“_OH.” _

The realization had finally struck. Was she? She was…_flirting _with him. And she may have flirted with him on a couple of other occasions too, come to think of it. 

“I...I didn’t know you felt that strongly about our...well, about us.” The man was acutely aware that he had never garnered a reputation as a flirt. “Thank you for your candor.” 

And that reputation sure as hell wasn’t going to start now with the way he’d stumbled over those choice words. _Thank you for your candor. _ Pfft. If Danse could kick himself, he would. No matter, he was her commanding officer anyway. Maybe he was reading too much into this, it certainly wouldn’t be the first thing he’d ever overthought. No, maybe she wasn’t flirting, after all. She was just really nice to everyone, wasn’t she? And yet... 

“I’m sorry if I seem confused. You’ve certainly given me something to think about.” 

More like something to obsess about, since he still couldn’t convince himself either way what her intentions may have been. 

The woman gave a gentle laugh while he stood there, flustered, and flicked the safety off of her rifle. 

“If you’ll excuse me, Paladin, I have a perimeter sweep to do." 

“Right, I’ll be inside the bunker. We’ve left Squire Morgan alone in there for far too long.” 

_It has been a maximum of ten minutes and the squire is asleep just behind the hatch. Why run?_

Once he got back inside, he decided that he was going to occupy his thoughts another way and read. She could just have his damn post when she got back, that was fine. He decided he'd drag the stool that Squire Morgan had been sitting in next to him over closer to the bunk beds in the rear of the shelter. 

Danse reached into the compartment on his power armor to fish out the book that he always brought with him and settled over in his new place with it. He wasn’t sure where he’d picked the novel up, possibly at Arlington or somewhere, but he’d had it a long time anyway and had to be careful with the old pages. 

He caught himself glancing up when she returned, though, and he caught her glancing back before he flipped to the first page. 

_ A few miles south of Soledad, the Salinas River drops in close to the hillside bank and runs deep and green... _

Danse soon found himself lost in the powerful imagery of the first few pages, and let it go. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am unapologetically extremely excited for my particular book headcanon, the book Haylen mentioned almost 10 chapters ago and the book he would have been reading had he been alone the night that they jumped off of the forecastle. 
> 
> Danse is reading the opening line from “Of Mice and Men” by John Steinbeck. We all know (and adore) that he’s a history nerd, but I feel like if he was going to delve into fiction that he’d dig historical fiction and American realism. Danse just seems like a Steinbeck guy to me. 
> 
> I like that particular novel for Danse for many reasons, specifically because of the commentary in the story, and because of how it ends. I could go on about it with you for a bit – like I _really_ like this for (at least my iteration of) Danse. I’ve been sitting on this headcanon for a while, but ain’t nobody got time for Tea to write a passionate essay about it. However, if you ask, I will gladly oblige. 
> 
> The whole thing about ‘he didn’t expect something as bold as a hug’ was meant to be a first draft thing, but I lost my shit after I wrote it so it stayed. All I did was change “bold” to “brazen” for Danse vocab reasons. If you are laughing at it at 2 AM like i was, then i've done my job.


	23. Orchestra

“_The smooth sounds of Diamond City Radio are brought to you by the following...” _

_ “ _Don’t tell me you actually like Diamond City Radio, Maxson,” drawled the lancer that was leaning in the cold, metal doorframe of Elder Maxson’s quarters. 

The man’s lips pulled up in a slight smile. Arthur Maxson rarely actually paid attention to what was playing on the radio, but he did like to keep it going quietly in the background, both in his quarters and on the command deck. He didn’t leave it on without reason. In fact, there was very little that the man did without reason. 

“Not particularly, but it serves a purpose. I can tune it to the Charles River Trio if you’d like. I believe they’re doing Shakespeare’s _ Henry IV _ this week.” 

Morgan rolled his eyes at the Elder as he breezed on into his quarters. “I ain’t nearly drunk enough for that.” 

Maxson resumed his position, leaning forward across a table scattered with blueprints and maps of the Commonwealth, all the while furrowing his brow. Thankfully, it was late enough in the evening that he could think in relative peace. 

Relative, anyway. He _had _called Morgan in, after all. 

The faintest hint of guilt pulled at the man when he shifted his gaze from his work to Morgan, who was now leaning back in a chair against his desk, tossing Maxson’s old baseball up into the air for himself to catch with an equally old glove. 

“How did Ingram do on the field repairs today?” he ventured cautiously. 

Arthur had finally authorized Proctor Ingram to go out in the field for a mission earlier. The Proctor had been trying to get off of the Prydwen for quite some time, now, and he just hadn’t been able to find it within him to put her at risk. He allowed her something relatively safe to do, at least with the full team he had sent with her into the field – a vertibird rotor repair. The Elder had noticed that she grumbled under her breath for the added muscle, though. She resented him, he imagined, considering both Kells and Cade had agreed that the woman was more than capable of field work. 

Morgan caught the ball he’d tossed in the air before he straightened his chair and looked over toward the Elder. 

“She did just fine fixin’ up de Anda’s _Vorpal._ More’n fine, actually. You ought to consider lettin’ her out in the field more...” 

“Was she happy?” he asked. 

“The hell do you mean ‘was she happy’?” 

The lancer’s tone fell flat at the question. Not a lot got past Morgan, as aloof as he may appear to be. 

“I can’t let her back out in the field again for some time, I’m afraid. I need her on another project.” 

No. Arthur did not do things without reason. 

He had given Proctor Ingram a taste of the freedom that she so desperately craved in order to placate her. It wasn’t out of malice, though he could understand if Morgan thought he was just trying to bribe the woman. He’d needed to boost her morale a little because she was about to be stuck here for an undetermined amount of time. 

Ingram was far too valuable an asset for this next, incredibly delicate part of their operation in the Commonwealth. He sighed as he rolled up the blueprints on his table to send off to her in the morning. 

Blueprints...blueprints for a gantry. 

The year was still fresh and there was so much that he was determined to accomplish within it. The sooner the gantry got built, the sooner reconstruction would begin on his old friend. He wanted Liberty Prime ready to go as soon as they had intel on the Institute’s location, though that was another matter entirely. One he would sort in the morning. 

“Christ, Maxson. You can’t just...” the lancer halted his words. Generally, Morgan had no qualms crossing lines and offering a very blunt opinion to his friend, but he had the sense to drop it. 

“I can’t just, what?” 

“Nothin’, Elder. I was speakin’ out of turn.” 

_ You can’t just get someone’s hopes up like that _is what Arthur imagined he would have said, not that he needed Morgan’s approval. Still, it had been meant as a gesture of kindness. A sort of apology for what was about to happen. 

“She _was_ happy, though?” he asked again. 

“Yeah, she was. Grinnin’ ear to ear while the air whipped through her hair on the ‘bird.” 

“Good.” 

* * *

Though it seemed as though it would have turned out that way, Arthur didn’t drink as much as usual the night before with Morgan. Even while discussing some of the more ridiculous field missions that Morgan had been on recently, and debating the merits of Neriah keeping mole rats aboard the ship, Arthur’s mind had been otherwise occupied. 

He had managed to wake up relatively early. You would think that, with years of late nights planning and early mornings leading, his body would have adjusted to his sleep schedule. That wasn’t so. 

He was still groggy while he tapped away at the keys on his terminal, composing some mail to send off to Cade. 

_ As we undertake our urgent mission in the Commonwealth, I feel that the mental well-being of the crew should remain a top priority for your department. I am well aware that being sequestered aboard this vessel can take __its__ toll... _

More than just being sequestered on the ship could take its toll. The bleary-eyed Elder read over his mandate once again, just to be sure that the message sounded urgent enough before he hit the button to send it off. 

0600 hours came quickly. The customary tiny rap was at the metal of his door again. 

“Come in, Lily.” 

Quick and quiet, as always, and his morning report was on his table while she waited for him. He handed over the rolled-up blueprints to the almost-squire and instructed her to head straight to Ingram with them, but not before asking, and finding out, that the youngster was a field scribe. Again. 

“This is becoming a trend, Lily.” 

“I want to help the soldiers that get hurt out there.” 

There was an uneasy pang in his chest with the revelation. Post-apocalyptic children didn’t have the luxuries of maintaining their innocence, and he wondered for a brief moment whether, one day when he married and had his own children, they would become orphans as well. Wars had great costs, after all. 

“That sounds excellent, Scribe Lily. We could never have enough good field medics.” 

The girl gave a faint smile and he dismissed her, turning to finish preparing for his day when another snippet from the news caught his ear. 

No, he couldn’t care less about the DJ or the pre-war tunes, but these news reports were turning out to be incredibly useful. Sure, the reports were often sensationalized. A lot of media was, but having a glimpse into the current affairs in the Commonwealth? From a civilian point of view rather than military intelligence? 

Invaluable. 

* * *

The Elder made his way to the command deck, stopping to greet every soldier that saluted him on his way. Once there, he took his usual post and surveyed the ruined metropolis that sprawled beneath him, thinking back to the maps that still lay on his conference table. Down there, somewhere, they had the Institute to deal with. There was the also matter of that missing vertibird patrol, suspected to have been brought down by gunners, as well as whispers of an organization called the Railroad that were smuggling those synthetic abominations out into the wild. And_ still _ there was the matter of Brandis’s missing team... 

This Commonwealth was nothing short of a disaster in desperate need of taming. 

Arthur needed to delegate. 

Arthur needed Danse back on reconnaissance – the Paladin had been posted here and doing odd jobs for long enough. 

As with everything else, Arthur hadn’t stationed Danse and his new knight here without purpose. He was aware of Cade’s medical files. Obviously – he was the Elder. While he didn’t generally know many of the more minute details within those files, he was made privy to some of the more important matters contained within them. 

No, the message he had sent to Knight-Captain Cade regarding his staff hadn’t just been about Proctor Ingram, who still struggled with phantom-limb pain. There was also Teagan, with some rather severe alcoholism, there was that initiate back a few weeks ago that had snapped and started hoarding food for ferals. There was the new Knight, who Arthur didn’t know particularly well, that had some form of amnesia. 

And then, there was Paladin Danse. Danse had been in the Brotherhood for years and had proven his worth time and again under the command of several others. In spite of his wasteland background, even the traditionalists had come to respect him over time. He wasn't perfect, he had seen firsthand the suffering and brutality that came with war, he knew firsthand the steep cost of victory. However, he didn't fight for glory but for a deep sense of purpose and a willingness to carry the Brotherhood's visions forward. These were all reasons that Arthur considered him for the rank of Sentinel, which was not something to be given lightly. However, that same man exhibited symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder.

Arthur kept him here for the past few weeks doing those easy jobs under the guise of “training Knight Carter”, but the real reason is that he had wanted to keep Danse close enough to observe. If Danse was going to refuse the prescribed treatment, then Maxson was going to keep him relatively close and hope that being home would do the Paladin at least a shred of good. 

However, it was now imperative that he get Danse back in the field. He wouldn’t send the paladin until he’d gotten a small glimpse into the officer’s current frame of mind, though. 

As if on cue, Paladin Danse entered the command deck behind. Perfect. Not only could he take a moment to get inside his officer’s head, he could also ask for an opinion on that radio segment he had heard a short while ago. Maxson stepped across the room, moving various bottles of liquor from a side table to a liquor cart and withdrawing a chessboard he kept stashed. 

  
“Care to play a game, Paladin?” 

The Elder was notorious for starting games with those that were within his inner circle – Kells, Cade, some of the other paladins. It was, in part to keep them sharp, but also to give him an idea of their mindset. It had been well over a year, at this point, since Arthur Maxson had last played against Danse in a game of chess. 

“Certainly, Elder. Am I black or white this time?” 

“I’ll give you the advantage.” 

The paladin paused, arms still clasped behind his back, fixing his gaze on a holotape that Arthur had sitting with other reports on a small shelf while he thought. 

“Alright. D4.” 

“Nf6.” 

At this point, Danse had made it over to the board and was helping Maxson set up the pieces. 

“Bg5,” the Paladin stated, rummaging through the pieces in their small, leather pouch before he could find the bishop and place it in the space that he’d just referred to. 

_ Interesting,_ the elder mused. Three moves in and the paladin was already playing out of his usual comfort zone, but he’d clearly been anticipating Maxson’s strategy. He liked the move. 

Together, the Elder and the Paladin formulated a plan of action for Danse to follow in the field while they marched pawns and knights, rooks and bishops across the board. There were ominous rumors pouring in from various sources about a ghost town called University Point, and occasional blips of strange energy readings that still came from te ruins of the Commonwealth Institute of Technology. The activity blips were even more suspicious because other grid points had begun to crop up with similar readings.

Danse would take a small team to the abandoned town to glean whatever intelligence they could, then he and Carter would break off and investigate the energy readings. With the success of those missions, Maxson felt he would be able to spare both Danse and Carter to investigate the disappearance of Brandis’s team. 

Solid planning. 

“Checkmate, Elder.” 

“Excellent game, Paladin.” 

The two shook on it over the chessboard and that same news snippet came across the radio he had going in the Command Deck, too. Impeccable timing. 

“_Do you folks recall a while back, oh, sometime in November, when the settlement of Sanctuary was founded? Well, over here at Diamond City Radio, we’ve heard some whispers that the Minutemen may have recently reformed, and may be trying to get back up on their feet at the settlement...” _

“What do you know of the Commonwealth Minutemen, Paladin Danse?” 

“Not much, I’m afraid. They were a fairly disorganized militia, though their cause was noble. Our intelligence led us to believe that the last remnants were wiped out by the gunners in Quincy months ago.” 

Hmm. Citizen soldiers? 

“I see. I suppose we’ll have to keep our eyes on them. In the meantime, please take anything you need to prepare for your mission. Choose whatever team you’d like to take to University Point, and I’ll have Kells arrange for transport to the agreed upon insertion point. Ad Victoriam, Paladin.” 

Arthur dismissed Danse with a salute, and the paladin returned his own spirited salute. 

“Ad Victoriam, Elder.” 

With that, Arthur resumed his position at the head of the command deck, looking out once again to the city below. While the Minutemen didn’t sound like much of a threat to the Elder, it did mean another organization for the Brotherhood to keep an eye on. They could afford for it to be lower on the list of priorities, though. 

For now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Uneasy is the head that wears the crown."
> 
> Anyway, apologies for this being a bit late. Between Halloween (i may have made an orange recon suit for the occasion), my sister being in town, and some lovely stomach bugs that my kids picked up from god-knows-where I just didn’t have any room left to brain. This one was stubborn.
> 
> I kept freaking out and going back and tweaking tiny parts of the last chapter that I wasn't fully satisfied with, and then I also worked myself up into a panic over the fact that plot points are about to start hitting harder and faster. 
> 
> And THEN I worked myself up over doing a straight-up Maxson POV since I've only done that one short bit of Maxson. I'm a bit nervous.
> 
> Anyway, ♥ you guys. ♥ Tea
> 
> P.s. I gots a dumb oneshot collection going, too.


	24. Infiltration

_ Caw, caw! _

Diana absolutely loved being out in the field. 

The cold winds and irradiated dustings of snow on the ground didn’t really bother her, at least not too much. As unsettling as the tale of University Point was turning out to be, exploring the ancient ruins of the college campus was beginning to curb her wanderlust. 

Inside of a building off to the side of the main hall, she worked her way through a dusty terminal to gather what information she could to unravel some more of the ghost town’s mysteries. 

She thought about the town and the settlers that had scrambled to get out before it had been razed, how terrifying it must have been when the Institute kicked down the proverbial door and gunned down anyone that they deemed unworthy. Who the hell were they to decide who was worthy? 

There had been children here, that much was made apparent by the toy cars and schoolbooks scattered through some of the buildings._ Children_, and the Institute swept through and slaughtered them all, anyway. What was it that Danse had leaned in and said when they had walked through the outer gate? 

_ “Now maybe you'll believe me when I tell you that the Institute cares very little about the Commonwealth.” _

Somewhere deep down, Diana had already known how terrifying they were. 

"Anybody in there, Carter?” 

"Hmm? Sorry." 

Rhys had been patrolling the room, looking out through shattered windows and testing every creaky floorboard, inspecting the area for signs of the Institute high and low. She was pretty much just hitting buttons and daydreaming. 

He stopped and leaned up against a battered wall, arms crossed over his chest where he could stare her down and size her up. 

"Damn, you really are a space cadet, aren’t you? I was asking you why you joined up with the Brotherhood.” 

“Oh. Still don’t trust me, huh?” 

“Nah, I didn’t mean it like that,” he looked down and nudged at an old box with the toe of his boot. “I was just trying to make an effort since you’ve bothered to stick with us for so long." 

Was this his own, stubborn way of apologizing to her? Rhys wasn’t exactly the type that was willing to admit defeat. 

Rodriguez looked up from the file cabinet he had been rifling through across the room, searching meticulously for those technical documents that Quinlan was always after. His eyes crinkled with delight and he let out a hearty laugh that warmed the whole room. 

“Haylen would be so_ proud_ of you, mijo,” he teased. Hmmm, so that’s what this was about. Haylen was starting to rub off on him, and Diana flashed a wide grin at the knight. 

“Yeah, whatever, grandpa. I wouldn’t get used to it,” Rhys grumbled. “Anyway, what made you stick around?” 

Rhys’s question just made her think about Danse. 

“I don’t really know why I joined,” she murmured. “Danse is kind of hard to say no to, I guess.” 

“Hard to say no to?” 

Two men raised their brows at Diana and her eyes went wide - she slammed a holotape scanner into the terminal slot to distract herself. She probably should have said that differently. 

It was simple. He asked her if she’d be interested in joining after she helped him out at ArcJet, and she said yes. 

Danse had sort of a commanding presence. The way he spoke about his convictions and the Brotherhood’s purpose on the way to ArcJet had been mesmerizing. How was she supposed to say no to someone that she could tell was fighting with everything he had to make the world a better place? 

Besides, she had just spent four or five days fighting her way through wilderness and rubble with just about anything that had looked in her direction. The squad had been the first people she’d come across that didn’t immediately try to murder her. 

Maybe it was a little nuts to join up with a frickin’ army on little more than a gut feeling, but at least it had worked out in her favor. Danse – no, the _ Brotherhood _ – offered her a sense of stability in the unpredictable wastes. 

The other two were still staring at her and waiting for her to elaborate. 

“Oh, shut up,” she said. “Trying to survive alone out there wasn’t worth it.” The little scowl that she was trying very hard to hold didn’t stop Rhys from letting out a chuckle and shaking his head, almost like he felt sorry for her or something. 

“Christ, Carter. You got it bad.” 

“Nuh-uh.” 

She didn’t have anything bad. Danse was her mentor, her friend... 

And her commanding officer. 

_ Yeah, that you were dumb enough to flirt with. _

Still, the thought of him getting so flustered pulled a dreamy smile from her lips. Knowing him, he was probably still thinking too hard about the words that had come out of her mouth, but that was just how Danse was. 

He had always been that way. 

She dropped the smile while her insides did a nervous backflip._ Had _he always been that way? How the hell would she know. 

Anyway, the holotape she had run through the terminal was done, and she popped it out of the slot, labeled it, and pocketed it. _For your safety, this database is now under the protection of the Brotherhood of Steel_ now displayed on the terminal screen. That meant that they were done with this building, which meant more exploring, and she liked the idea of more exploring. She ignored the two men snickering at her and let herself glide past them and out the door to the quad, ready to hunt for more ghosts in the deserted town. 

_ Caw! _

Once back outside, the air felt different, and the warmth and camaraderie that she had shared with her brothers froze over instantly. A bitter wind howled through the spaces in between the broken buildings and cut through them all like a knife. Being right off of the coast must have added an extra chill to the air, and the sinking sun and occasional squawking of the crows on the far rooftops added another layer of eeriness that began to creep over the compound like a thick fog. 

Now with a firm grip back on reality, Diana was reminded why she had felt unsettled in the first place. 

_ Caw! Caw! _

Damn it. She shuddered, turning the collar of her bomber jacket up against the wind. Something about those crows really freaked her out. 

_ Water, _ _ stimpaks _ _ , ammo – check. _

* * *

Rhys drew his arms in tight across his chest while they marched on to their last target. 

This damn place was huge, must’ve held a few dozen people at the very least when it got leveled, but it sure as hell could’ve held more than that if the population ever got built up. Tales about this old town were way worse than any of those ghost stories that he’d heard about Salem, and Salem was supposed to be real creepy or something. 

A place like this should have been easily defensible. From his inspections, the outer walls of the ghost town still held pretty strong to this day, and on top of that they were built pretty high. Hell, there were still old machinegun turrets along the outside that could probably still work with a little bit of elbow grease. 

It made him wonder how in the hell these people had gotten hit so hard, if the perimeter still looked so secure a couple of years later. 

Yeah, this whole damn place was off, and the worst part of it all was that they hadn’t run into any hostiles when the whole squad had done the initial sweep together before splitting into teams. Normally he’d be glad that the job was so easy, but it just didn’t sit right with him. 

_ Caw, caw! _

Especially not with those freaky-ass birds going off again. 

“Hey, let’s get a move on. I got a campfire that’s calling my name once we’re done with this.” 

“You just want to go snuggle up to Haylen.” 

“Nice try, Carter, but you don’t get under my skin near as easy as I get under yours.” 

He spied Danse and Haylen across the quad making their way back toward the rendezvous point, and he noticed Carter looking off in that direction real quick before she turned to focus on their mission. 

Typical Carter. 

What was way more interesting was the fact that Danse had glanced back, and he was looking for a little longer than he should have if all he was doing was counting his troops. He didn’t have_ that_ many baby ducks with him on the op. 

“Hey, Rodriguez?” he asked, low so that Carter wouldn’t notice. 

“Yes?” 

“Add five to my bet.” 

Rodriguez’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, and he looked around in time to catch Top and Haylen disappearing into the credit union way back. 

“Why? You see something?” 

“Dunno. Maybe.” 

Anyway, all they had left was to comb through some old liquor store before they were supposed to meet back up with Haylen, Top, and Howe. Howe had already been positioned on top of the roof where they were going to set up camp for the night, setting up the radio and being the eyes in the sky for the team. Poor bastard was in the thick of it with all of the damn birds. 

_ Caw. _

Fuck’s sake. 

Welp. This last one was a waste of his damn time. There was jack shit in here, cept for a stim and a whole 13 caps. They made a show of looking through every inch of the place though, opening every container and checking out every scrap of paper. Clouds of dust puffed up when they stomped up the rickety old stairway to turn over the next floor, too. 

At least the top floor was a little more interesting. They found a couple of handles of whiskey to bring back to camp, which would help keep everyone warm for the night. They also all shared a laugh when Carter nearly jumped out of her skin stumbling across a couple of those pre-war Jangles the Moon Monkey toys that were hiding. 

He couldn’t blame her for that one, at least those things were pretty creepy. Especially since they were at a point where they were about to have to bust out some flashlights to see anything . 

_ Caw! _

Ugh. A couple of the crows had settled on an exposed beam right above him, where some of the roof had collapsed and fallen to the outside of the building. Rhys could swear it looked like they were watching them. 

Their eyes even looked like... 

Holy shit. He needed to catch one of these damn birds. 

_ Alright, keep your cool. Don’t spook ‘ _ _ em _ _ . _

He casually strolled over to the corner of the room that those Jangles toys had been in. There was one of those swatters just next to ‘em, along with some other junk. He couldn’t use his rifle on the damn things because they'd probably get vaporized, but if he was sneaky enough... 

Rodriguez looked at Rhys like he’d lost his marbles when he climbed up onto a coffee table with a bat, but Rhys didn’t have time to explain himself. Birds looked so lifelike - ruffling their little feathers, turning to preen themselves. 

Damn it!_ Turning _! He had one shot, and he had to make it count. 

_ Whack! _

He got one, even though he almost whacked Rodriguez in the dome when he did it. 

“Watch it, pendejo!” Rodriguez barked, irritated with the young knight’s vigor. “What are you even doing? Nobody wants to eat smashed bird.” 

_ The hell is a __pendejo__? _

“Sorry. Anyway, come take a look at this.” 

Rodriguez and Carter both came over to him, looking apprehensive as all get out. He must have looked like some sort of nutjob, taking on a little bird like that, but damn he had been _right._ He pulled a small flashlight from his utility belt and shined it in the little thing’s eye. 

Optical fucking sensors. Just like a damn Mr. Gutsy. Synth _birds? _

These were the fanciest UAVs Rhys had ever seen. 

The three knights looked at each other, the ominous nature of this town really starting to sink in. Another icy blast of air made its way through the holes in the walls. Rhys would be cold and dead before he’d ever admit that he was spooked, but the wind made him shiver this time. 

The caws of several crows off in the distance reached their ears and they looked at each other. There was a whole damn _ flock _of the things over where Howe had been setting up shop, and that’s the direction the sounds were coming from. 

“We should get this to Danse...” Carter said. 

“Yeah. Pronto. Let’s move.” 

They were hustling to the stairs when a strange crackling noise and flash of light hit an alleyway just between this building and the next. Great. What-fuckin'-now? 

“Hello? Is someone there?” a metallic voice called out, footsteps starting to echo through the empty bottom floor. 

Carter turned to look at Rhys over her shoulder, and he looked back. 

Where the fuck had the synths come from? 

* * *

Diana, Rhys, and Rodriguez raced through the compound, creepy little bird tucked neatly in Rodriguez’s T-60. Diana cursed herself for leaving hers back at camp with Howe when their teams split. Maybe Danse was rubbing off on her, but she definitely wished she had it on now. 

She dove into the cover of some broken marketplace stalls in the center, covering fire so Rhys could catch up to her and Emilio. These freaky things had orchestrated some kind of ambush and come out of nowhere, catching them all off guard. 

_ Caw, caw, caw! _

Diana could hear gunfire and crows back behind them, and glanced over her shoulder to see how Danse and Haylen were doing about 50 yards back. There were fewer synths in that direction, so they were holding just fine, but there were more birds antagonizing Howe on the roof. 

It was confusing, her team was further from the entrance, so it made no sense that all of the synths would have come from somewhere over here. But... _ where did they come from _? There were just cracking sounds and then BOOM! Synths. 

Diana fidgeted to check her pockets.

A few of them were chasing after Rhys. Diana took one down, and Howe managed to get between his flock of crows and take out the other from his perch high atop the buildings that they were running to support. Rhys dove behind the stall and knocked into Diana. 

“They’re popping out of nowhere like fuckin’ molerats!” Rhys puffed, head leaned back against their cover while his breath caught up with him. Once he was good, he popped back over their shared cover to take out a couple of the metal men with that swatter he’d picked up. His brute strength and gift for combat made Diana feel wholly inadequate. 

“Hey, Rhys? Spar with me when we get out of this? I need lessons.” 

There was the loud clatter of wooden bat hitting metal head. 

“Sure thing, if you get out of this mess in one piece. Now move it!” 

They all kept trading while the occasional shot would ring from the rooftops to assist. Diana would sprint through the field and duck behind some rubble, then she’d cover fire for either Rodriguez or Rhys while they bumbled in her direction, sometimes bumping into her when they caught up. She was going to be sore, scraped, and bruised from hitting the ground – and her brothers - so hard. 

There was a crackle off to her side, and Diana got goosebumps from the feeling of an electrical current that had come too close. There was an unmistakable flash of white in the corner of her eye. Lightning.

_ You have to fight! _ The thought seared through her head again, just as it had when her jumpsuit had ripped. 

Diana tripped and fell into a puddle of slurry and mud when a synth popped out from that same direction and whacked her in the knee, taking her by surprise. She gritted her teeth, furious that it had come at her. It was looming over her, electric charge humming through a shock baton when she aimed to pop a round into its head. She didn’t even have time to pull the trigger before the synth had turned to ash, blowing away in the wind. 

She could have taken it down herself – something in her_ wanted _ to, wanted to rip it limb from limb. She hadn’t needed a knight in shining armor, but someone else had her back, anyway. 

_ Danse. _

The comforting sound of heavy, armored boots thundered across the ground and he was at her side - scowl on his face and stern as ever, and she wouldn’t change it for a thing. 

“Everything all right, soldier?” 

“I’m fine, Danse. I had backup, didn’t I?” 

His scowl softened when he helped her to her feet, and she let her eyes lock with his for a beat longer than they ever should in the battlefield. 

“Of course, Carter. Stay close so we can finish this.” 

With Haylen and Danse finished with their own battle and back with them, short work was made of the remaining hostiles, at least from what they could tell. 

_ CAW. _

Maybe not all of the hostiles. There were still the stupid crows watching. 

The party all dragged through the muddy, slushy field and towards the credit union. Every one of them was still on edge, double checking every possible corner to make sure there weren’t any more synths ready to jump from the shadows. Rhys filled Danse in on the birds while they all walked on, finally crossing the threshold into the building. 

“All right, people. We should take a moment here to -” 

_ CAW. _

Danse didn’t get to finish his sentence. There was one final cracking noise and a roar coming from the rooftop where Howe was still stationed. Locked and loaded, everyone hustled for the stairs. Once they had all clambered up onto the roof, the world as their squad knew it came to a screeching halt. 

There, with little more than the dim glow of moonlight and a couple of lanterns, were _ two _ identical Knight Howes, wide eyed and trembling. They were each pointing a pistol at the other, and now all laser weapons were drawn and pointed at them both in confusion. At least a dozen of those damn birds looked on from their perches, craning their necks and ruffling their feathers as if mocking them all. 

A slow smolder of anger began to rise in Diana’s chest, a feeling that wasn’t at all normal for her. The birds _ were _ mocking them, the _Institute _was mocking them, and she wasn’t going to let them get away with it. 

Before Diana even knew what the hell she was doing, something in her had forced her to move to stand between the man and his copy. She didn’t know which one was Howe and which wasn’t, but she’d be damned if the real one was going to get hurt by those bastards. She was right in their line of fire, and they both had some very itchy trigger fingers. 

_ Shit_. It sure would have been nice to have thought this through. 

“Damn it, Carter! Have you taken leave of your senses?” 

“I’m sorry, sir.” Her paladin’s scowl was back in full force, completely bewildered and she couldn’t blame him. She drew in a shaky breath, and let out a slow exhale. 

_ Think, Diana. _

“What’s your name?” she asked. 

When neither answered, she knew she was in it deep. If she wanted to protect Howe, then he and his copy had to know that she_ meant _what she was saying. She had to command their attention, and she summoned every ounce of contempt that she had for the Institute. She thought of the children they’d slaughtered, the people they’d replaced, the people they’d hurt. 

All of the lives they had ruined. 

_ You have to _ _fight._

Whatever the hell those words meant, they’d acted as an accelerant and that slow, angry heat burned into wildfire and fury. They were not taking anyone else on her watch. They would not hurt any of these people she had come to love. 

Never again. 

_"WHAT IS YOUR NAME,” _she growled. 

Everything that came after that was a flurry of pure adrenaline and emotion, all just hazy details that she didn’t want to relive. 

After moments of intense interrogation, a gunshot rang out across the town, the flock of crows disappeared with the sound. The pistol that had somehow made its way into her hand clattered to the rooftop beneath her feet, along with the angry tears that now dripped from Diana Carter’s face. 

It had terrified her to look, but the synth was dead – the computer chip mixed in with the grey matter and blood spattered across the roof confirmed that much. Knight Damian Howe was safe. 

She fell to her knees beside the other shaking knight and pulled him into a warm embrace. 

“You’re safe now. We’ve got your back.” 

It was over. 

Fuck the Institute. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rodriguez calling Rhys a pendejo and Rhys not picking up on context clues is my way of getting back at Rhys for being all "hAylEN sHe DoeSN't eVeN KnoW wHAt that means" when you join the squad.  
Sorry, ♥ you Rhys!
> 
> Um. So...have an update? I don't even know what to say this time, but I'm pretty hyped about things to come. I hope you are, too! 
> 
> I am trying to keep my end-note explanations and stuff to a minimum, but I have a Tumblr now, where I sometimes bitch about writers block or reblog memes and flowers.
> 
> ♥ Tea


	25. Aftershock

Warmth. 

The burn of the fire - the rich, thick smoke that fills your lungs in much the same way that a heavy blanket might cover you in winter. The sticky-sweet tar left behind on your fingertips, and that small moment of clarity you feel after you’ve taken that first long drag and exhaled. 

Danse pinched his brow between two oversized fingers in a vain attempt to keep the mounting tension at bay. The cravings were hitting particularly hard tonight, but he didn’t have a pack of cigarettes on him. Probably for the best. 

He scanned the rooftop, first checking for more surprises, then examining the harrowed faces of his team and the shaking knight in the center. 

No, recon missions weren’t for the faint of heart. Being in hostile territory where you could easily find yourself outmanned, outgunned – the things they did meant they were flirting with death on a consistent basis. It was no secret, and if you signed up for recon you knew what to expect. They had to rely on their training to survive, but how do you train someone for something as insidious as this? 

Institute bastards. 

He felt his jaw set in a hard line, felt himself nearly bristle with apprehension when he turned his focus to the dead synth in the center. His gaze fell to the gun that had fallen from Diana’s hand. She’d done it. The atrocity was gone, and tears had run down her cheeks. 

He didn’t like the similarities between this and his own failed mission to rescue... 

He inhaled sharply and his chest tightened. 

_ No. Don’t go there. Howe is alive. _

It was his duty to remain calm, assess the situation, and then make a judgement call. Officers compartmentalize, and then they move on – they had to remain a steadfast example to the other soldiers on how to behave. 

_ Get it together_ _, soldier. Get_ _ them the hell out of here._

“Rhys, radio back to Cambridge, tell them to send the Claymore for early extraction. We got what we came for. Haylen -” 

He motioned for the scribe to follow him across the length of the rooftop to Howe and Carter in the center, being careful not to step in the mess. Haylen knelt beside the two knights, doing her best to check on Howe through his tight hold on Diana. 

Thinking about the way that Diana _threw herself into the line of fire _with no regard for self-preservation whatsoever... It was exasperating. It was...it was... his stomach twisted in a knot. 

_ Get it together. _

He worked his way past Diana, not quite sure if he could look her in the eye without being, what, annoyed? Worried? There was no time to pinpoint it, he had to check on Howe, whose breathing was finally beginning to slow. “Hang tight, soldier. We’re getting you out of here.” 

The knight managed a grateful nod through the aftershock. Haylen and Johnson were going to need to monitor him for at least a couple of days. Perhaps it was a good thing that Howe also had Rodriguez to lean on, the pair had enlisted together some time ago and managed to stay within the same squad through the years. That closeness they shared may well keep Howe sane. 

_ Having a bond with someone, and then losing them... _

“Carter.” 

_ Dangerous airhead. _

“Yes, Paladin?” 

Howe had relinquished his hold on her and she’d stood up, not moving more than a couple of feet away - keeping her finger on the trigger._ Protecting _ them, complete with a tiny, determined scowl on her face. He let out another heavy sigh. Now wasn’t the time. 

“When we return to Cambridge, we need to have a discussion.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

He moved a hand to rub at the base of his skull. Another wasted attempt to cease the dull pounding that began to course through his head. 

Damn it, he needed that cigarette. 

* * *

Other than Rodriguez now comforting Howe in the clinic, the team had marched together through the police station once the vertibird landed – all the way to the garage. 

Good. If they were close, he could keep an eye on them. He could be sure that they were safe. 

“Sir? You think we should do a perimeter check? See if any of those UAV birds are hanging around?” Rhys had been bouncing around on the balls of his feet, full of restless energy ever since the rooftop scene. 

“That’s an excellent idea, Rhys. Don’t go alone, I’ll -” 

“Excuse me, sir, but can I go with him?” Diana asked. He still couldn’t quite bring himself to look at her, not without that nervous feeling, so he fumbled to chain up his armor. He’d prefer to go, himself, in case the two missed something - not that he doubted their capabilities at all. 

He was just _restless_. 

He also had other responsibilities that he needed to tend to, though, so he resigned with a sigh. Besides, it would give him an opportunity to check the station’s defenses. 

“Go ahead, then. I still have to file an incident report.” The sooner that word got to the Prydwen, the better. “You two be sure to keep your weapons loaded, and watch each other’s backs.” 

“Roger that, sir.” 

“Carter?” 

“Yes?” 

His stomach did another nervous twist. 

“Come find me once you’re done.” 

Before he’d go file that report, he decided that he should take care of a few quick things. He’d make sure the machinegun turrets were functioning, check back up on the other knights... 

And Danse could take care of that craving that still made his tongue itch. He knew full well that there was a pack of cigarettes up on the shelf above the workbenches. He rummaged through a toolbox to see if there was a spare lighter, and stuck the stick between his lips, turning away from the wind to light it. 

He’d been so preoccupied with Rhys and Diana that he’d nearly forgotten that Haylen was there. She eyed him as he took that first long drag – typically she’d chastise him for it. She must be preoccupied, too; she was being unusually quiet. 

He leaned up against the garage door where he could keep an eye on his knight – no,_ knights – _while they walked away, and damn if his head didn’t still hurt. 

“Do you need some med-x, sir? Quarter dose. It’ll help.” 

“No, thank you. It makes me feel lightheaded.”_ And lethargic. _

“And the cigarettes don’t?” 

He let out an amused huff. “I was wondering whether you were going to scold me. This is the first time I’ve smoked in months.” 

Since a few days after Keane’s death, actually. He sighed, tonight just seemed to be one big reminder of all of his failures. Another drag to try and ease the tension. 

“Haylen, can I ask you something?” 

“Yes, sir?” 

Danse thought about earlier in the day when he had looked out across the field at University Point, watching as his Knight made her way with the other search team to their final target. She’d practically been dancing through the snow as they moved from building to building. 

“Was it unfair of me to ask Carter to join the Brotherhood?”

She paused to examine him for a moment, trying to get a read on him.

“Why do you ask?” 

Why did he ask? Well... he wasn’t entirely sure. She had found her place within the Brotherhood and adapted to their ideals with ease. She believed in protecting the last remnants of humanity nearly as much as he did.

Because he felt guilty, maybe. She’d been fresh out of the vault and had no idea what she was signing up for. 

He didn’t want her - or any of his team, for that matter - to end up like him. He felt he was watching Diana’s slow transformation over the past couple of months – hell, over the past twelve hours - from a sweet, doe-eyed,_ dancing _idealist to... 

_ WHAT IS YOUR NAME__. _

The scene ricocheted again through his head. 

In the moment, she’d become some sort of turbulent arbiter of divine justice – charging in and demanding answers once she had found her focus. 

She’d had to think out of the box, demanding answers to deeply personal questions. Things that those close to the knight would know, and be able to confirm. Things you couldn’t find out just by sending traders to spy, or by stealing personnel files. 

It was a sight to behold, to be honest. He’d probably be impressed if he wasn’t irritated about the fact that she’d carelessly thrown herself into the line of fire. That, and something else he still couldn’t pinpoint, or perhaps that he was forcing himself to ignore.

He didn’t really know. Mostly heartburn, since he’d been so busy keeping his team together and ignoring his demons all night - 

“Did I catch you thinking, sir?” 

\- and he still hadn’t answered Haylen. He savored the last drag before he stubbed the cigarette out on the bottom of his boot. 

“I suppose so.” 

Haylen just gave him a slow shake of the head. “She chose to stay, Danse. All you did was ask. Besides, she’ll be fine, so you can put the pack away and stop stewing. Doctor’s orders.” 

She held out her hand for him to hand over the pack, and he did so begrudgingly. Haylen was right, and typically was. He paused to do a brief check of the area immediately outside of the garage – nothing. Were the machinegun turrets on? Yes. Good. Knowing that they had that line of defense, at least, gave him some relief. 

“Haylen?” 

“Sir?” 

“If they don’t return within fifteen minutes, come find me. I’m not willing to take any risks tonight.” 

“Of course, Danse.” 

Well, with that out of the way, he could do his rounds on the personnel that were still inside, and get to work on that damn paperwork. 

* * *

By 1927, Rhys and Carter were back, just four minutes shy of Danse’s 15-minute mark. Once the garage door was secured, Haylen and Rhys made their way into the station, trailing behind the other knight. 

“God, no wonder those people in Diamond City are such lunatics,” Haylen muttered. 

She had seen several things during her time in the field. Some strange, some gruesome. This bothered her more than usual, though. It was their first encounter with what the civilians were calling a “generation 3 synth” -_ as far as they knew. _

That was the kicker. She frowned. 

Howe’s clone had been indistinguishable from a human, other than that tiny microchip they’d picked up to send to the Prydwen. As far as she could tell, it pretty much _ was _ human. It... 

"Haylen, talk to me...” 

Just how much could reasonably be called machine? She wasn’t expecting it to have a real, living_ brain. _ The synth displayed tangible signs of _fear. _It was throwing her for a loop - the science was incredible, but the _ethics. Why the hell _ did they need such sophisticated...robots? Were they really even _robots_? 

Institute technology definitely wasn’t anything to sneeze at. 

Rhys, always her personal knight-in-shining-armor, did a quick check to make sure nobody was paying attention, and took her hand. When he was absolutely sure Carter was out of sight, he pulled her through the open door to the supply room, shutting the door and locking it with a whisper. 

“Babe.” 

“How do we know we aren’t synths?” she blurted. Philosophical discussions weren’t really Rhys’s thing, but she was just so worked up over it. 

He blinked at her a couple of times in rapid succession. “That all you’re worried about?” 

“I don’t think I know what I’m worried about. It’s just that the Institute’s technology is so much more advanced than anyone else we’ve ever faced.” 

“Oh, come on. They’re nothing but a bunch of whack jobs playing with their toys. They’re no match for the might of the Brotherhood. You’ll see.” 

“But that synth...” 

“Haylen,” He lifted her hand – the gentle graze of his lips across her knuckles throwing her for a whole different kind of loop. “You don’t have anything to worry about. We’ll win the day. ‘Sides, I wouldn’t let ‘em snatch you.” 

“Yeah, but how would you even _know?” _

He moved her to where he had her pinned up against the door, keeping her close.

“Well, you know me, and I know you.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Yeah. See, that’s exactly what _my _ Haylen would say. And besides that, _my _Haylen is tough. She’d probably kick the synth’s ass before I even had to save her.” 

She laughed, and pulled him down to her level by the strap of his suit. Oh, she was probably almost as bad as Danse - she absolutely would have been stewing all night if she didn’t have a knight here giving her a lovely distraction in the form of a kiss. 

Distractions in the form of fingers trailing up her thigh, lips trailing down her neck - 

Distractions in the form of him reaching back and_ smacking her ass. _

“Rhys!” 

She shifted to squeeze her thighs together. She wasn’t mad at him for doing it so much as she was mad that she was starting to get riled up and they really didn’t have time to do anything about it. 

“Yeah?” 

He gave her a look that was smug, and right now she hated him for it. Oh, this was definitely_ her _Rhys. 

_ Jerk. _

* * *

Fr: Paladin Danse DN-407P   
To: Elder Maxson MX-001E   
  
Subject: Mission update - PRIORITY 

|…|…|…|…| 

Danse stared at the terminal screen, watching as the cursor blinked on the page. As far as responsibilities went, filing reports and doing paperwork were his least favorite things. He felt as though he should be actively doing something – checking on his team again. Double checking the machine gun turrets. Examining the watch roster to be sure that nobody was scheduled a shift out there alone. 

Patrolling._ Something._

May as well get it over with, though. He grumbled to himself while he slowly typed out his report. Being confined to one spot was making him feel agitated all over again, and making him itch for another nicotine fix. Being stationary also let his muscles start to try to relax. It let the exhaustion from the day start to work over him. 

He couldn’t let it. 

It didn’t matter much what he wanted. When he rested his head in his hand to think about what else to write, to relieve some of the pressure still in his head, his eyes closed for a second longer than they should have. He started to drift off regardless of his intentions, caught in the in-between of sleep and wakefulness. 

A mishmash of mutants and synths began to chase through his head, however briefly. 

The soft click of the interrogation room door closing jerked him right out of that limbo. His heart began to race. In one swift motion his hand had gone for the backup pistol he kept and he was on his feet, ready to take on whatever mutant was there to kill him. Whatever synth was there to… 

... 

It was just Diana, as far as he could tell. Assuming otherwise would be unreasonable. 

“Identify yourself. Name and registration.” 

Unfortunately, logic meant absolutely_ nothing. _

“Diana Carter, CR-208K.” 

He began to lower the weapon to his side, but kept it drawn, just in case. She took a tentative step toward the desk. It was probably her, unless the Institute got the details down right to the way someone_ moved. _

“I, um. I collect holotapes.” 

That was true, she did hoard those things. It was almost positively her - she chewed her lip the same way while she thought. 

_ Deeper breaths. Get it together. _

“Mmm, I have one.” Her eyes lit up when they found his again. “DN-407K. Your old registration code’s scratched into the stock of my rifle.” She even held his gaze the same way. With his guard now lowered, she took the opportunity to close the gap between them and ease the gun from his grip. 

“You had it for a long time before you gave it to me, didn’t you?” 

“I...yes. I had it for quite some time.” 

He resigned and rubbed at his neck again, head still aching. Yes, this was his knight – there wasn’t a doubt in his mind. 

His behavior was unacceptable – embarrassing, even. No soldier should ever see one of their superiors in this state, and he’d made the mistake_ twice_, now. Not only that, but the person that she was supposed to be looking to for guidance had pointed a goddamn gun at her. Who knew what she thought of him at this point.

“Diana, I -” why was all of this so goddamn difficult, tonight? “I’m sorry." 

“I know you are.” She reached up to place a gentle hand on his cheek and he found himself closing his eyes and leaning into the touch, savoring it. Savoring the feeling of comfort for a small moment. “How are you feeling? Haylen told me to drag you to her if your head was still hurting.” 

_ Damn it, Haylen. _

He caught himself still leaning, and cleared his throat, prompting a soft laugh from Diana. 

“I’m fine.” He would be, anyway. Besides, he wanted nothing to do with med-x, he’d get drowsy. 

“Okay. Come on, you said we needed to talk. Let’s go outside.” 

“Since when do you call the shots, Knight?” 

She gave him a wry smile. “Would you rather sit at the desk?” 

“Absolutely not.” 

He leaned over to check the message he’d written to the Prydwen and sent it off. He’d agree to anything that would get him out of this office. Besides, if they were heading to the roof like he suspected, he could keep watch over the station. 

* * *

“Hold this.” 

The pair paused, and Diana handed him her rifle. At Danse’s insistence, they had made the rounds to check on the rest of the personnel on their way through to the roof. She drifted over toward the little stovetop in the main room, ladling something into some bowls to bring with them. 

That’s right, Walker had mentioned something about stew. He’d been so preoccupied that the thought had barely registered. He let her lead him the rest of the way up to the roof, over to the southeastern corner where they could keep watch over the stretch of road behind the police station. 

He checked behind the roof access, just in case. Turrets were still on. 

“So, what was it that we needed to talk about?” 

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. Diana hadn’t actually done anything _wrong, _just irresponsible. Still, he needed to be stern with her. If she wasn’t careful, the next time she put herself in a similar situation, her life would be in danger. 

“What the hell was that all about on the roof? What were you thinking?” 

That wasn’t what he’d wanted to say. He should have said something along the lines of_ Knight, I believe you owe me an explanation. _

“I wasn’t thinking, Danse.”

“Damn right you weren’t,” he grumbled. Why the hell did he feel so nervous, and _irked _ again? Now certainly wasn’t the time. “While the way you handled the situation may have been impressive, it was tactically dangerous jumping into the line of fire like that.” 

“I know.” 

_ That’s even worse._ She looked up at him with those big eyes and he just... 

Well, damn it. Being irritated with her was unfair and he knew it, because this wasn’t entirely about her. 

“We nearly lost Howe tonight,” he began. That was part of what had bothered him all night. _He’d almost lost another one_, which would have made a fifth. He felt a pang in his chest at the thought. “And, to top that off-” he didn’t want to finish that sentence, either. 

_ “I don’t want to go through that again.” _

_ “Don’t worry, Danse, you won’t have to.” _

That conversation already seemed to have happened an eternity ago. He watched while the knight let her legs dangle off of the roof - the same way she always did. _His _knight. He could have lost _her. _The closest friend he’d had since Cutler had died. 

And then after _that, _he'd pointed a gun at her like an idiot. 

“Danse...” 

She patted the spot next to her, inviting him to sit again. He didn’t want to let his guard down enough to relax, but… 

He did want so desperately to feel some semblance of normalcy, even if only for a few moments. Close to what life had been like before he had lost every person he had ever cared about, before he’d lost half of his squad. He’d joined the Brotherhood not just for the sense of purpose, but for the fraternity, and once he had lost Cutler he had isolated himself a bit more every time someone else had died. His rank made it all that much easier. 

He found himself giving in to her warmth again, easing himself down to let his own legs dangle off of the rooftop. He could afford to join her for a moment, at the very least to scarf down the bowl of stew Diana was still holding for him. He accidentally kicked her boot when he settled down next to her and pulled his rifle into his lap. 

She narrowed her eyes at him when she handed over his bowl, and kicked him back. 

“So, I was impressive, huh?” 

He stopped to stare at her mid-bite. He must have looked incredulous, because she looked far too pleased with herself, even trying not to laugh at him. Well, if that was the game she wanted to play - 

_ Kick. _

He wasn’t entirely sure what this game was all about, but he was going to win it. If she was going to be petty, he would be, too. His tomfoolery drew out the laugh she’d been trying to hold. 

“You’re exasperating. You missed the point completely.” 

“No, I didn’t,” she stopped, dropping her gaze back to her feet. “You’ve been worried all night.” 

“Is it that obvious?” 

She nudged at his boot, again, and gave him a look that told him it must have been extremely obvious. 

He nudged back. If this was what passed for normal with Diana, he’d be glad to get used to it. They enjoyed most of their meal in silence and occasional nudges, keeping watch over the station together. 

He glanced over at his knight, watching as she looked up toward the sky. He really should do one last perimeter check before heading in for the night, but that didn’t mean he wanted to leave her there. 

He held out his hand to help her up when he stood, and she took it without any hesitation. 

“Where are we going?” 

“Would you like to come with me to do one last sweep for the night?” 

His knight was warm with everyone, at least that she’d gotten to know well. She’d spent a portion of the night holding Howe. She’d brought Rodriguez tea while Danse had been rounding on everyone, and she made sure Haylen had extra gum after the vertibird had landed. 

That’s just how she was. 

By that logic, it shouldn’t have surprised him at all that she had worried about him, too. It shouldn’t have surprised him that she’d caressed his cheek, or that she’d squeezed his hand and let the touch linger when he helped her up. 

“Danse, you don’t ever have to do it all alone,” she had already told him that much, before. “We’re a team.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t want to smash super mutant skulls with anyone else. Come on, then.” She still hadn’t let go as they took a few steps toward the roof access. “You know, Diana, you really shouldn’t be holding your superior’s hand.”

Unintentional breaches of protocol were still breaches of protocol, but he could feel the warmth in his cheeks with the gentle reminder. 

“Oh.” Her own cheeks went rosy. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Rhys actually called me a space cadet, earlier.” 

Now that? That made him chuckle.

“Paladin Danse, are you_ laughing _at me?” 

“A bit.” 

Over the years, he’d become accustomed to being alone, but damn if it didn’t feel nice to have someone that cared enough to come along with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Our lives depend on our training, and on each other." - one of Danse's lost patrol quotes.
> 
> Oh man. 
> 
> For _starters_, I am so sorry, Danse. 
> 
> I don’t think he’d take the UP scenario well – obviously. None of them really do, and I wanted to try to respect that and have them all leaning on each other to various degrees.
> 
> Uh, so, smoking Danse. Unhealthy coping mechanism. Headcanon comes purely from the ashtray and carton of cigarettes on his desk in the Prydwen. I don’t think he’d be a heavy smoker, honestly, but an occasional one when he’s trying to suppress emotions. I do kind of think he leans on alcohol, too, like others headcanon, but never on the job. Maybe even snuggles Emmett. Dunno, but at least cat therapy is healthy.
> 
> This got LONG and very self indulgent toward the end. Believe it or not, this is dialed down, though, holy shit.  
There will be more angst, but that only means that the fluff will get fluffier.


	26. Attrition

_ “Scribe Hurley insists that they came from the lightning.” _

The scent of cigar smoke still hung heavy in the air, plans still lay strewn across the large table in his quarters. Though it was still very early in the morning, Arthur Maxson splashed a small bit of whiskey into the coffee that the mess hall officer had so graciously prepared for his midnight meeting. 

He looked at the yellowed letter, now stained with droplets of coffee, that was mixed in with his maps. How strange. He’d scoffed at it only hours ago, but now he knew exactly how he would respond to the letter. 

He rummaged through his desk for paper and a pen – this needed to be handwritten. He would write an invitation to the Minutemen, whoever it was that represented them, to discuss their common enemy. He would seal it with orange wax before it was sent off. They would meet, on Arthur’s terms, on Arthur’s territory. 

If synths had “come from the lightning”, if teleportation was, apparently, well within the realm of possibility, then the Institute would be taking advantage of guerilla tactics. It made sense now. 

The Institute was no military, but they had other instruments at their disposal. They were gunning for a war of attrition. 

* * *

The days had begun to bleed into one another after Paladin Danse and his team had scouted University Point. Arthur’s schedule remained largely the same: briefings, strategy, reports – whatever time he may find to train in the mornings before he’d take his eternal post at the command deck. The days had become calmer. He was losing fewer troops. More had enlisted. He would need their strength in full force when it came time to strike the enemy. 

However, this was only the calm before the storm. He knew that the Institute was almost certainly taking its time to regroup and form strategies of their own. 

They also hadn’t yielded any more results since that incident. He inhaled deeply and let himself get lost in thought. 

_ “The good fighters of old first put themselves beyond the possibility of defeat, and then waited for an opportunity of defeating the enemy.” - Sun Tzu, The Art of War _

Ad Victoriam. To victory. The words held power so long as his soldiers believed them. More than a rallying cry, it was a mindset. Defeat was no option, and while it looked as though Arthur Maxson was going to end another day with nothing new, it was no matter. Finding the Institute was only a matter of time. Then they would strike and emerge victorious.

“Excuse me, Elder?” 

Arthur turned from his place at the head of the command deck, appraising the knight that now stood before him, along with Lancer-Captain Kells. She was one of the ones stationed down at the airport gates. 

_ This must be important. _

“How can I help you, Knight?” 

Kells looked from the knight he had in tow back to Arthur, the barest hint of suspicion in his expression. 

“A courier came with a letter for you, sir.” 

_ A courier? _ Strange, and Kells seemed to think so, as well. He was unaware that any worked in these wastes. Perhaps there were still some scraps of civilization left around the Commonwealth, after all. He motioned for the knight to step forward with the letter and examined it closely. It had even been sealed with wax – blue. Broken, presumably because it had been screened for threats. 

He thanked the knight and read through the document. Encrypted radio frequencies – this bit of the letter made sense to him. The Brotherhood used similar methods for some of their communication, after all. The rest of the letter, though... 

“This is the most preposterous thing that I have ever read.” 

Arthur furled his lip in disgust and laid the yellowed parchment down next to his maps. This was absurd. The fact that some civilian had the audacity to waste not only his time, but the time of the rest of his soldiers as well was incredibly irritating. 

At least the handwriting had been legible. 

“I’m sorry, sir. He made it seem urgent.” 

The Elder had to restrain his urge to snort in disbelief. It wasn’t the knight’s fault that someone claiming to represent the Minutemen had insisted that this...this _information, _ be hand delivered to their chapter’s leader. The knight had only been the one to intercept it. 

_ Don’t shoot the messenger. _

“Kells, did you screen this?” 

“I did.” 

He thanked the knight and dismissed her, and turned again to look back out across the Commonwealth before Kells came to join. He waited to be sure the knight was indeed gone before he addressed the Lancer-Captain. 

“What did you make of it?” 

Kells clasped his own arms behind his back and gazed out across Boston with him, carefully considering the contents of the letter while his brows knit in a deep frown. 

“Candidly speaking, sir, I find the contents of that letter dubious at best.” 

“As do I. However...” _ However_, as absurd as it may be, Arthur would still have to entertain the notion that the Institute was far, _far _more advanced than they had originally anticipated. They had so few leads, even now that Quinlan’s scribes had gone through all of the data on the holotapes that Danse’s team had sent back from University Point. 

He let out an exasperated sigh after he ruminated for a moment. “However,” he continued, “it would explain a great deal if there is any grain of truth to it.” 

“I suppose we should take anything we’re able to get,” Kells agreed. “How do you intend to respond?” 

“I haven’t decided.” 

Not yet, anyway. He would sleep on it and seek counsel first. 

At least they weren’t completely empty handed in regard to intelligence. They now knew about the Institute’s crow spies – Watchers, they were called. They were fairly certain that the Institute employed trade caravans to gather and occasionally steal information, so trade had been restricted for the time being. As were leave requests. 

The official reason for leave denial was attributed to an increase in raider activity. No soldier would question it, and though the Brotherhood generally didn’t keep secrets, he couldn’t afford any questions. Why? 

Down at the airport, kept behind a locked door that only Scribe Neriah and Knight-Captain Cade had access to, was the body of a deceased generation 3 synth. The pair had strict orders to keep the autopsy confidential. Everyone that had been involved with the University Point incident was under the same orders not to discuss it with anyone. 

It was strictly need-to-know. 

Unless Neriah and Cade could come up with a reliable way to test whether or not a person was indeed a synth without having to kill them, it was going to have to stay that way. Otherwise, his entire chapter would devolve into chaos overnight. Baseless accusations of stolen identities would run rampant throughout the vessel. 

Likely over nothing more than petty squabbles. 

Yes. The Institute’s move had been brilliant – what they had done couldn’t have gone wrong either way. If the synth had successfully replaced Knight Howe, they’d have an informant. With the replica dead, though? An incredibly effective scare tactic that would no doubt worm its way into the back of his soldier’s minds if rumors began to spread. The widespread paranoia that had taken a hold of the Commonwealth was a testament to the effectiveness of those tactics. 

The enemy was smart, and they needed to be smarter. The war had begun – they needed to plan effectively. They needed to play this carefully. 

* * *

The scuffle of boots in the exterior hallway roused Arthur from his sleep later in the night, long before his morning report ever had a chance to be drawn up. Something had gone wrong in the dark of the night, not that it was necessarily uncommon. 

He slipped into his suit and boots and was battle ready within a minute, should the need arise. He wasn’t entirely sure what he should expect when he wrenched open the bulkhead door and looked out into the hallway. To his right, Kells was standing in his own doorway adjusting his captain’s hat. A scribe ushered Cade from up the stairs and rushed him to the ladder where another scribe was being hoisted through the hatch, severely injured and babbling incoherently. 

The scribe was followed by Knight Bainbridge, covered in blood but otherwise functioning. He had been temporarily assigned to Delta team, helping prepare the polymer labs for manufacture. 

After that came Scribe Haylen, giving Cade her assessment. Then Knight Rhys, Knight Carter – none of which were members of Delta. If Carter was with those two, then the recon team’s commanding officer was sure to follow. 

“The lightning, the_ lightning _,” he heard the scribe repeating to Bainbridge. He noted Carter and Rhys shifting their weight and exchanging a look of concern. 

Danse was the last through the hatch. The Paladin looked between his knights and the injured team members – now being whisked into the medical bay – and then back to the Elder. 

“Sir, I believe you’ll want to speak about this in private.” 

_ Interesting. _

“By all means.” 

Arthur stepped back and gestured toward the door to his quarters, opting to check in on Bainbridge and the scribe – Hurley, it appeared to be – after Cade had done what he needed to. 

“Rhys, Carter, with me.” Danse commanded. The pair followed in sync with their Paladin, and once Kells had followed suit, Arthur closed the door behind them. “Carter.” 

All Danse had to do was give her a look and she nodded back. She reached into the compartment of her T-60 and Arthur knew, he _ knew _ before she even unwrapped them from her cloth, before he could hear the clink of the metal when they dangled, that they were holotags. Three sets for three soldiers; two knights and a scribe. Delta team had all but been wiped out. 

What would the Institute even want with a research team? 

“Report, Paladin. What happened to our team?” Kells asked, giving Knight Carter a nod once the holotags were handed over to him. 

“Of course. We received a distress call coming from the direction of the labs, sometime after Carter and I had returned to the station from a scouting mission. We don’t entirely know what happened to the team, but they appeared to have been ambushed. From what Bainbridge told me, some of their blueprints had been taken.” 

_ Blueprints? _Of course. They were after information about Liberty Prime. The gantry that now stood on the tarmac wasn't exactly small.

“Everything that took place had to have happened in no more than thirty minutes,” he added. Danse went on to explain that their scouting mission hadn’t been far from the labs, and that he and Carter had passed by the building on their way back for the night. “I am certain that there was nothing in the area when we passed by.” 

Arthur was inclined to believe him, seeing as Danse was always willing to take responsibility when something had gone wrong under his command. It made no sense that the Institute would be able to strike so quickly though. “Where would the attackers have come from, then?” 

Knight Carter glanced at her paladin and he gave her a nod to proceed.

“Sir, if I may?” Carter asked, shifting her gaze back to Arthur.

“By all means, Knight, if you have something to add, do so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MINI UPDATE! CLIFFHANGERS!  
I'm aliiiiiveeeee!
> 
> When I started this, Maxson was NOT supposed to evereverever be a POV character. He had other plans, clearly.  
I also wasn't going to write him here, but he hijacked this, too. 
> 
> I am incredibly nervous about it, but also EXCITED about the next couple of updates.  
I have one update almost ready to go, a plot-relevant one shot, and bits and pieces of the chapter after that written as well.
> 
> Hopefully this is alright, because I'm not proofreading it again until the morning. I'm pretty sure there aren't a thousand typos tho.


	27. Echoes

> “Do not be afraid; our fate 
> 
> Cannot be taken from us; it is a gift” 
> 
> Dante Alighieri, Divine Comedy 

_ Hmm_.

Diana ran her fingers along the book’s rough pages before she closed it and packed it in her crate. Truth be told, she wasn’t entirely sure whether Quinlan would throw it from the flight deck if it got sent up to the Prydwen. She could just ask Haylen when she and Danse got back to the station. 

_ Fate_. 

She believed in fate. It was romantic, the idea that some things were just destined to be. That whatever was out there might leave clues for you to find, and that you had to figure out what those clues meant. Sort of like a cosmic treasure hunt. 

Danse halted his patrol and leaned in through the doorway of the office that they were scouting. 

“It’s late.” He paused for a moment to examine her progress, letting his gaze sweep the whole room before it settled back on her. “We should head back to the station; we’ve got a long hike ahead of us tomorrow.” 

_ Dang__ it_. 

“One more lock?” She wanted to practice picking them, and was convinced that she almost had the feel of it down. While she’d figured out that Danse wasn’t entirely immune to puppy eyes, she figured she should just stick to reason. That always did the trick with him. “This desk looks like it might be important.” 

Well, sort of important. It was the last of three enormous mahogany desks that were left in the building, and it was locked. That meant whatever was inside was either important or personal. Maybe both, like the book she’d found in the top drawer. Her Paladin looked back at her over his shoulder and caved, nodding a slow affirmative before he returned to his post just outside of the doors. 

This office really was in amazing condition. Heavy wooden doors and thick glass windows had left most of the building nearly untouched, not that raiders would want anything to do with law manuscripts. A few other books had survived that she’d put away, and there was even an antique globe sitting on a bookshelf that she didn’t have the room to carry. It was easy to picture what it looked like before the bombs dropped – a bit less faded, but just like this. 

Aside from the thick layers of dust that had settled on everything, anyway. 

Diana heard the distant gurgle of a wandering feral outside, followed by the fire of a laser from Danse. 

“On second thought,” he called through the open doors, “pick as many of those locks as you want. You’re only giving me an advantage.” 

She stifled a giggle. “You need it,” she called back. She couldn’t contain a delighted smile while she worked with the desk’s lock. That competitive streak Danse hid under all of that protocol and metal plating was one of her favorite quirks of his, and it was oh-so-easy to draw out. She wondered for a minute if it had been even easier when he was just a knight. 

All she had done was claim to be a better shot than him, because she was – most of the time. He had ignored what she said for a minute. He’d tried to. They had been busy clearing ferals on their way through Cambridge when she’d said it, but as soon as the coast was clear and he’d had a moment to think about it, it had gotten to him. 

_“Do you always go around making groundless claims?” _

_“It’s not groundless, Danse. I can prove it.”_

And thus, their competition had been born. They didn’t even have terms yet, but she refused to lose this time. She’d already paid that old snack cake debt and she was determined to keep it that way. 

She groaned a little when she broke a second bobby pin and Danse looked in to check on her again. Fine. Fine! She would just shoot the lock off and save time. 

It had been a bit since they’d gone through the ruins over at CIT, looking for information about the energy readings that came from the area. They hadn’t found anything, though, and Haylen hadn’t noticed any other readings in the area. So, they ended up spending extra time looking around some of the other buildings near the college campus before they were due to head toward Malden with O’Connell in tow. Elder Maxson’s orders. 

The Brotherhood already had some sort of intelligence that the Institute had been established by pre-war college associates, it was just a matter of digging up the proverbial dirt. 

The literal dirt, too. Diana coughed when she had to force the stuck drawer open and it kicked up a cloud of dust. 

_ Bingo_. 

There were case files inside. It was already dark, but what she could make out with her flashlight looked promising. The files had something to do with college administration being sued by the city for permit violations, so...maybe? She had no idea. There wasn’t enough time or light to read through them, so she tossed them into the crate along with their other findings when a photograph fell from between them. 

Just as she picked it up, Danse popped back in. 

“Diana?” 

There was a gentle warning in his tone that meant it was time to go. She carefully tucked the photo between the pages of the book she’d found before climbing back into her power armor to move on out. 

A breeze caught the stray hairs that had fallen from her bun and tickled the back of her neck when she joined Danse outside – like a ghost trailing its fingers across her exposed skin. She caught the glint of a shooting star off in the distance and she closed her eyes, just to let herself feel everything in a rare moment of peace. 

“What are you doing?” 

She popped one eye open to see Danse only a couple of feet away, brow raised at her. 

“Nothing,” she inhaled deeply – the cool air didn’t have the same wintery bite, anymore. “It’s just nice out tonight.” 

She wasn’t so sure that she wanted to admit to making a wish on that shooting star, and closed her eye again while she left him confused. She was hoping that maybe she would remember something – anything. Whatever tiny scraps that the universe might be willing to toss her way. Other than the very, very few things she had written down in her diary, she was worried that her memory might be getting worse, because even the things she thought she knew about Nate just seemed farther away. A chill made its way down her spine at the thought – what would Cade say? 

“You know, you’re leaving yourself open when you stop in the road like that.” 

“I am not,” she grinned. He was right, though. She needed to get out of her head. “I have a Brotherhood Paladin with me.” 

“You hold me in dangerously high regard.” 

“Maybe I do. They definitely didn’t give you that rank because of your aim.” 

He turned and took a step toward her, brows furrowed, and studied her. For a moment, she thought he might continue to lecture her for not paying attention, but then his intensity faded into something softer. 

“I’m not above admitting that you’re precise, accurate,” he paused, taking another step closer to her, “but at the cost of speed.” While she was busy reminding herself to breathe, he lifted his rifle and aimed down the road behind her, taking down another feral that was trying to crawl after them. All she could do was blink. 

“Proficiency isn’t all about careful aim,_ knight _ , and it means nothing if you aren’t paying attention.” He lowered his rifle and – was that a _smirk? _ Oh my God, it was. “Now, I believe that puts me at eight.” 

_ Show-off. _

She couldn’t stop the laugh that spilled past her lips. Part of it was at herself for getting so worked up, and part of it was because he still hadn’t let that go. If that was how he was going to be - 

“Mmm, well it’s too bad I’m still sitting at nine,” she fired back. 

“I’m not sure how when you’re never looking forward,” he grumbled, but that was the extent of his lesson. “Anyway, don’t be too pleased with yourself. You haven’t won anything, yet.” 

“Oh, but I’m going to. And you’re going to hate it.” 

She couldn’t help teasing him and he shook his head at her, almost as though he were trying to shake off a laugh. “I suppose I should just be grateful that you’re not as bad as -” 

He stopped himself short. 

“As bad as?” 

“Cutler.” 

“What was he like?” she blurted. She had wanted so badly to ask him more about his friend, about his life before in Rivet City, but she felt incredibly dense once the words had tumbled from her mouth. She rolled her eyes at herself. He might not want to talk about it, anyway. “You don’t have to answer that, I’m sorry, I -” 

It was silly, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d missed out on so much of his life, and that was something she had no business feeling, did she? 

“There’s no need to apologize,” there was spark of gold in his eye while he took a moment to remember his friend. “I suppose, in some ways, he was a bit like your lancer friend. Imagine, though, if Morgan didn’t have a much younger brother to care for.” 

“He couldn’t have possibly been that bad.” 

“Oh, he was,” he chuckled, low and soft. “I was being roped into his shenanigans constantly. He nearly drove me to my wits’ end several times.” 

Try as she might, she couldn’t keep her breath from catching when he glanced back at her. After a moment, though, that spark he’d had while he reminisced went dark and he returned his focus to the road ahead, pressing forward to their destination. He was always focused. Always moving forward, steady and stubborn as a brahmin. 

However briefly that light may have been there, it had been beautiful – and very much so worth remembering. The pair rounded the last corner to the police station and she squeezed her eyes shut for one last wish - 

_Please, don’t forget. _

With her armor left behind and the crate in her arms, she left Danse behind in the garage to do his maintenance checks. Sometimes she worried about him, but right now he seemed content just to keep himself busy with his preparations for their next mission in the field. It wouldn’t hurt for her to give him some peace and quiet away from her bothering him for five minutes, but not without one last thought. 

“Danse?” she asked quietly, pausing to shift the crate to one hip and drum her fingers along the doorframe, one foot already through the door. 

“Yeah?” 

“He’ll always be there as long as you remember.” 

_ Alright, space cadet, now let him be. _

* * *

Danse was right, it was late. Diana did her best to creep quietly through the station, listening to soft breaths and the echoes of Jackson and Rodriguez’s snores while she passed through the bunk room and out into the lobby. It was comforting, knowing that at least some of them were still able to dream in peace. Her own dreams had just gotten stranger over time. 

However, she must have made some noise when she hoisted her crate full of things onto the table to look through, because Haylen popped her head out of the door to the clinic to see who it was. 

“Oh, it’s just you,” her lips were pursed while she thought. “Did you two just get in?” 

“Yeah, a couple of minutes ago. Why, were you hoping for someone else?” 

Probably Rhys. They’d seen him stationed up on the barricade when they came in. 

“Well, sort of. I thought that the team working the labs was supposed to crash here again tonight, but they may have finished their set up. So, what did you find out there? Any tech, or anything _ else _?” 

Diana took the book from the crate and gave it one last once-over before handing it to Haylen. “Well, maybe. Do you think Quinlan would toss this one off of the flight deck?” 

“Mmm, let me take a look at it.” 

Haylen hummed over it for a minute, checking the spine for structural integrity and the pages for damage. “Poetry, eh? And some of it is in another language... Hard to say, really. I can always find a way to smuggle it to some scribes that would actually appreciate it, though.” 

Ugh, Quinlan the hypocrite. Diana had nothing against the man, actually, but his comic collection was the Prydwen’s worst-kept secret. “Would it really kill anyone to save some of the pretty stuff, too?” 

Instead of an answer, Haylen was lost on one of the pages. “Hey, Di? What did your brother look like?” 

“Why?” What did Nate have to do with anything? The question had caught Diana off guard, but maybe it was payback for bothering Danse about Cutler. 

Unless this was another check-up. 

She narrowed her eyes at the scribe, and Haylen rolled hers right back at her. “Relax. I found a wedding picture stuck in here, and the name ‘Carter’ is on the back.” 

Diana had almost forgotten about the picture, and nearly tripped over her own feet getting over to Haylen to see. Maybe it was someone that she knew. Maybe the picture would stir something inside of her. It would be far too convenient with those wishes she’d been making. 

But... 

Well, wishes just don’t work that way. The couple in the photo were radiant – beaming at each other as if there was nobody else in the world. The man in it appeared to be military, that much may have been right. He was outfitted in his dress uniform and decorated with ribbons, dipping a laughing bride in embroidered lace that had her hair pinned back in perfect waves. 

Nate was in one of the branches, wasn’t he? 

_ Come on, think. _**_Please. _ **

It was hard to tell since it was faded, but even though there may have been a couple of similarities between the man’s appearance and Diana’s own, it felt off. The pair made a handsome couple, but as far as she could tell, these people weren’t hers. 

From what very little she could bring to mind, her brother had brown hair – a fair bit darker than her tawny razorgrain color. Definitely not an early salt-and-pepper like the man in the picture. She remembered blue eyes, too, brighter than the grey hues of her own. 

She flipped the picture over and found no answers. “Mr. & Mrs. Carter, 2073”. 

She shook her head. “I don’t know them.” 

“Ah.” Haylen felt sorry for getting her hopes up, she could tell. “Well, I wouldn’t worry too much about it. There were almost five million people living in the Boston area pre-war. There had to have been more than three Carters in the area.” 

“Don’t worry, Haylen. I’m not worried about it.” In all honesty, it was almost relieving that she didn’t feel any sort of attachment to them. It might have been worse, to recognize and then not remember. “I’ll hold on to it, though. Just in case.” 

“You_ should _ keep it, just to look at that dress. Pre-war weddings must have been quite the spectacle.” 

The two of them fawned over the picture for a moment, admiring the detail of the woman’s dress and how happy the couple looked, chittering about pre-war flowers and cake and rituals. Sure, there might still be a party with the occasional wedding, but nothing like that. People didn’t even always marry for love, anymore. 

“Most fairy tales died out with the bombs,” Haylen shrugged. 

“Not all of them,” Diana gave Haylen a heavy dose of side eye, and Haylen started to blush. “Fairy tales didn’t stop existing, they just changed.” 

That last part was more for herself than for Haylen. If Diana didn’t hold on to the pretty things, like the books or the stars or the wishes, then all you were doing was existing. An emotionless existence was the worst sort of torture. She wanted more than that, not just for herself, but all of them. 

Diana carefully folded her picture and stuck it in an unoccupied pocket to keep, and as she got ready to head out to try to sleep, a slow drone began to echo through her pipboy. 

Wait. 

She had forgotten to turn the radio off, and Haylen was already buckling her vest and adjusting her cap. The pair looked at one another and their stomachs began to sour. 

“Di, what frequency are you tuned to?” 

“One - oh – four.” 

“Crap!” Haylen rushed past Diana and to her terminal. “That’s Delta! Go get Danse, I’ll pack my kit and get Rhys. _ Damn it _!” the scribes eyes were wide. “Energy readings!” 

If Diana woke anyone up this time while she rushed through the station, she didn’t care. She wasn’t even sure if they had much time. Energy readings – she could already feel the goosebumps begin to prickle up on her skin when she bumped into O’Connell in the hallway, fresh out of his jail cell. 

“Jesus, Carter, where’s the fire?” 

“Move.”_ Wait. Don't be rude. _“Sorry. Hey, you’re supposed to be with us for the next few days, right?” 

The initiate’s eyes darted between the cell he’d just been released from and back to her. “Aye, that I am.” 

“Then grab your gun and let’s_ go_.” 

“Eh, y-yes, ma’am.” 

Giving orders was a little easier now, she guessed. 

She didn’t have to say a word to Danse when her and Rian burst into the garage, the noise that came from her pip-boy already had him suiting back up. One look from him told her _put on your helmet_. It was their routine, now. 

Their peaceful night had lasted all of twenty minutes after they’d gotten back. 

She opened the compartment on her T-60 - 

_ Water, _ _ stimpaks _ _ , ammo – check. _

* * *

_ Damn it. _

Danse and Diana had just come from this direction. 

Had he been too distracted when they made their way back through Cambridge? No. 

True, he’d indulged Diana’s whims and allowed her a brief moment to pause and appreciate the night air, but he’d made sure to watch her – watch _ over _ her. If he had been distracted, he wouldn’t have noticed the ghoul that was trying to crawl after them. 

No. In fact the entire point of the game was to take out hostiles. And, though it had been all in good fun, the entire point of his little demonstration had been about staying alert. 

There had been no gunfire when they passed on the street near the labs. He was certain of it. 

With the five of them tearing through the streets as fast as they could, there was still no evidence that anything had gone awry by the time they’d made it to their destination. There was no gunfire, even now, but the atmosphere had changed. It was sour and electrically charged, just off, and beyond the sound of Haylen’s radio signal, it was silent here. Unearthly. 

And Danse could smell ozone. The smell of laser fire, the smell of lightning and radstorms. 

His team knew his procedure inside and out, and O’Connell at least had the good sense to follow his cues. With Diana fully cased in metal, Haylen had been tracking the distress beacon. With the wave of his hand, Haylen knew to cut the sound and his team readied for the breach. Danse counted it down. He signaled a three, then a two, then a one and they all moved in, filing into the front room of the Cambridge Polymer Labs. 

Into a room full of _nothing_. 

Into a room so empty that the drop of a pin would have echoed through an empty foyer – not even the skeletons remained from their last excursion. 

So empty that a pin drop would have echoed through an empty decontamination chamber and locker room, the only evidence that anyone had been here came from two ammunition carriers that were lined up on a bench, from a scribes’ cap that rested atop a locker. 

So empty that a pin drop would have echoed through the former lab room. The only evidence that Delta team had ever been here at all came from Danse’s prior knowledge of the location. Lab equipment had been ripped out and rearranged, some gone altogether to re-tool and serve a new purpose for the Brotherhood of Steel. They were to manufacture armor plating, and occasional bits and pieces needed for Liberty Prime. 

The atrium was another story altogether. 

“Stay close,” he reminded them once they’d done their quick sweep and he signaled the all-clear. There was only the one exit and if they stumbled into something unsavory, retreat was no option. 

Crates were knocked over. Hundreds of scraps of paper now littered the linoleum floors. Some of the aforementioned lab equipment had been moved out here and was toppled over, scraps of metal scattered about. A lone laser pistol lay on the ground with no owner. 

And Danse could still smell the ozone. 

“Sir, over here,” came the low voice of Rhys. He and Haylen had been investigating the fallen tables a few yards away, and Danse knelt to the ground to inspect it. 

Dust. 

Evidence of laser weaponry. 

“Damn it,” he breathed, sifting through the ash to confirm his suspicions. He pulled a steel chain from the pile and rubbed the ash from the tags. “McNeil.” 

Knight McNeil hadn’t been here alone, though. There had been a total of five assigned to retool this location, and as of yet, there was no sign of the others. 

Diana moved to his side and held her hand out to take the holotags. She found a nearby scrap of cloth to carefully wrap them in, as though paying her respects, before she tucked them into her T-60. 

They found two more members of Delta downed while they made their way toward the second floor, and each time Diana stood by his side and took the holotags as gently as the last. 

There wasn’t even the sound of a whisper beyond their own footsteps until they were halfway up to the second floor, when Danse heard laser fire come from behind him in formation. It came from the right. The only two on that side were Diana and O’Connell. 

“Damn it. Check your fire, Initiate,” he growled, not too keen on the possibility of being shot at by a greenhorn. “We only fire when necessary.” 

“It was Carter, sir.” 

Diana? 

Diana did not waste ammunition if she could help it. He looked back to find her rigid, aiming down her sights into the atrium. Aiming at nothing. 

“Seein’ ghosts,” the initiate muttered. He must have thought his remark was too low for anyone to hear, but that changed with the look of warning that Danse gave him. 

“Something was there,” she insisted, never lowering her weapon. 

“What was it you saw?” 

“I don’t know, a sort of shimmer. It was _ there, _ Da-,” she caught herself with a slight shake of the head, “ _ sir _. I know it was there.” 

He believed her. A “shimmer”, as in a cloaking device? Damn it. Was some coward hiding with a stealth boy? He closed his eyes for a second and focused his hearing. He listened for the echo of a pin drop in the eerie silence of the labs 

But 

There 

Was 

_ Nothing. _

Nothing, save for their own breathing. When he opened his eyes, Diana was still focused on the atrium – he could tell even with the helmet snapped over her head. 

“Sir?” 

She wanted permission to investigate. Someone should, erring on the side of caution. Not alone, though. “Rhys, with her. Stick close together, am I understood?” 

If his order came out rough, it was because he already didn’t like how this was playing out. 

“Roger that, sir.” 

He’d rather be the one to investigate. He’d_ rather _the team not split at all. There were too many variables. He trusted that two knights could take care of themselves long enough to do another quick sweep – he had to. Leaving a field scribe alone with an initiate, no matter how well-trained that field scribe was, would have been an uneven match. 

Now with two teams formed and his knights picking their way back through the atrium, there wasn’t much left of the lab to investigate and still there were no signs of the remaining team members. Not until they came across a trail of blood that dragged across the tile, in the direction of the hidden passage from before. Not until his ears picked up on the sound of ragged breathing and a stifled moan coming from the same direction. 

What the hell was that? 

Once the three of them had moved through the room and he’d stepped into the crawlspace, he found Knight Bainbridge quivering beside Scribe Hurley, his hand clapped over the scribe’s mouth. Both were injured, Hurley severely so. Bainbridge had burns from laser fire that had grazed his head, and he winced every time he took a breath. Hurley was sickly pale and babbling incoherently, bits of metal sheeting protruding from his leg and abdomen. 

Haylen’s eyes went wide and she rushed to the side of them both, not hesitating to start barking orders at O’Connell to keep pressure on this wound or that, to hand her stims from her kit. Demanding to know what all Bainbridge had done while he tried to help. Bainbridge hadn’t dosed him. Bainbridge did his best to keep Hurley still. One of those towers of equipment had fallen on Hurley. 

“Sir.” 

Haylen kept her voice as even as she could, but there was a hint of a plea in it. Hurley would need far more than what Haylen would be able to patch here, alone. 

Danse took Haylen’s radio himself, letting her attend her new patients. He tuned to Cambridge and informed Walker that they needed the Claymore. When the communications systems for the Claymore were online, he walked Lancer Hawke through what they needed. Did Hawke have a stretcher? Yes. He informed the lancer that he would need to park the bird as close to the building as he could get it. No, there was no roof access. 

With that much taken care of, he turned his attentions back to Bainbridge. “Are you able to report?” 

Bainbridge drew a shallow breath and gave a faint nod. He’d broken something painful – possibly a rib or clavicle. 

“He came out of nowhere, sir. He stole some of Ingram’s prints and he just – he -” the knight took another labored breath and bit the inside of his cheek. Danse wasn’t certain if he was trying to avoid a display of emotion or if it was just the immense pain of his own breathing. 

“Lightning,” Hurley murmured through Haylen’s work. She’d dosed him with Med-X, he likely wasn’t thinking clearly anymore. If he even had been in the first place. 

“The building was secure,” Bainbridge added. “I was just moving equipment and I couldn’t even react, it was all so fast -” 

A loud crack reverberated through the entire building and the lights flickered with the sound. It echoed through the empty rooms from the direction his two knights had just gone. Scribe Hurley seized the fabric of Haylen’s sleeve. “The _ lightning _,” he wheezed. 

Danse readied his weapon and moved toward the entrance to guard them. There were no other sounds. No gunfire. No knights arguing from the other room, only the faint sound of an approaching vertibird. 

Once again, he could smell the ozone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got so LONG, I had to split it in two. Otherwise I'm just going to get caught in one of those perfectionistic editing loop thingies. The next bit of it is almost ready to go, though. I swear it. I just have to polish it up and fill it out a bit before I can whack you in the face with the ending to it. The ending of it is my _favorite._
> 
> I am so guilty of using "brows furrowed" "furrowed their brow" "raised a brow", and I saw something about it on Tumblr a little while ago and felt called out, but I ain't a professional so what EVER.
> 
> Carter is a sap, but what else is new.  
And, not to be as much of a sap as she is, but Y'ALL. You have all said some lovely things to me over the course of the last few months. I keep some of your comments hand-written on some sticky notes on my office wall. They keep me going ♥
> 
> eta: damn y'all really let me sit here with the WRONGEST date on that photo for weeks didn't you. it said 2083, it is now FIXED :)


	28. Reveries

The sun will always rise. It is a constant, and even after long nights spent in doubt, the day would inevitably be new and there would always be a new tomorrow to fight for. 

This is what Diana told herself amidst the hustle and bustle that surrounded her, though she couldn't change the fact that time felt as though it were crawling slowly past her. Once through the hatch, she immediately unhooked the helmet from her armor and let loose strands of hair fall wherever they wanted to. She appreciated the rush of cool air on her face, and the safety of the Prydwen. Still, she felt a shiver make its way down her spine when she heard Scribe Hurley moaning about lightning behind her. She turned to take a look, but he’d already been hurried along into the Med bay with Haylen and O’Connell - both still tending to his injuries while they briefed Cade. 

So, they hadn’t been seeing ghosts. Hurley had seen it, too. 

“Rhys, Carter, with me.” 

The command grounded her in reality. This wasn’t how she’d wanted to tell Danse about what she’d seen back at the labs, and Rhys seemed to feel the same way. The two hadn’t had the time to give him their full report. Not in the rush to get the remaining members of Delta to safety. Not over the roar of the vertibird engines, not over the Claymore’s onboard radio system. 

Not for the entire world to hear. 

All she’d had time to get out was “Danse, we saw something back there,” as soon as the Claymore had docked, and he’d quietly acknowledged it as they carefully unloaded Hurley and Bainbridge from the ‘bird. 

She shared a nervous glance with Rhys and sucked in a breath to calm her thoughts, following in step with her Paladin until they were all inside – midnight meetings meant closed doors. 

“Carter,” Danse said, just rough enough to be an order. When she looked back at him, though, she could see it in his eyes – he had done this before. Maxson and Kells had, too. Every one of them carried themselves as though this were business as usual, but she could tell in the way that they all set their mouths in hard lines, in the dark circles under their eyes. For them, maybe it was just business as usual. Just another late-night meeting that nobody wanted to have. 

And she knew what they expected. 

One by one, she removed the holotags from their cloth wrapping before presenting them to Lancer-Captain Kells. He gave her a slight nod of acknowledgement when she presented them, and he went on to ask Danse for his report. 

Danse still didn’t have their report, though. She tried not to chew her lip too obviously while she listened to what he had to say. When he was done, she looked up from the map she’d fixated on and instead fixed her gaze to his, doing the best she could to load her question into the look she gave. 

_ Do you trust me? _

The few seconds that passed felt like an eternity, but then he gave her the go-ahead to speak. 

She cleared her throat. “Sir, if I may?” she asked the Elder, dragging her eyes away from Danse’s to meet Maxson’s. 

_ Hurley saw it, too. _

“By all means, Knight. If you have something to add, do so.” 

She could hear Rhys give a nervous sort of grunt off to her side. “Scribe Hurley insists that they came from the lightning. That _ someone _ came from the lightning.” 

_ Water, _ _ stimpaks _ _ , ammo – God, not now. _

Kells and Maxson both exchanged a look, and the Elder clasped his hands behind his back, brow now raised at her. He was skeptical, but that was okay. “Scribe Hurley and Knight Bainbridge both seemed to have sustained head trauma. I suspect that their testimony should be taken with a grain of salt.” 

“Yes, sir. But -” there was a pause while she gathered her thoughts. They needed to know - she couldn’t just ramble about it. “I believe he’s right.” 

“Would you care to elaborate?” 

* * *

“Clear,” Rhys grunted. Diana and Rhys had made it all the way through the atrium, through the manufacturing room, through the decontamination chamber back at the labs – nothing. Not even a radroach. At this point, they’d almost cleared the entire building without finding her shimmer. “You sure you saw something, Carter?” 

She gave the decontamination room one last once over before they stepped out into the lobby. “I know I sound crazy, but you trust me, don’t you?” she asked in hushed tones. There had to be_ something_ here, she just wasn’t ready to give up. 

Diana hoped that he did trust her. Rhys did seem a little more antsy than usual. His muscles tensed and giving off a low, nervous energy – not settling in one place for too long while he moved around every room on the lookout for clues. He narrowed his eyes when he decided that there wasn’t anything in the lobby, either. All that was left were the offices upstairs. 

“Well, I end up stuck with your ass on half these ops, so I guess so.” 

It was nice to hear, because she knew she’d seen something, even if it had just been the blurry edges of a concealed_ something_. Whatever it was had also definitely come in this direction; she’d seen the movement by the only door that led out of the atrium, but she supposed it could be long gone by now. They’d swept as quickly as they could, but they still couldn’t just blaze through the building if someone was hiding with a stealth boy. 

Stealth boy or not, she hadn’t heard the heavy outer doors shutting, though. That tech didn’t still didn’t cover sound. 

How long did those last, again? She couldn’t quite remember. She closed her eyes to think – just for a second at the bottom of the stairs – and then she heard something. A very, very faint _ click _ – maybe like a fusion cell being loaded. 

She opened her eyes and bounded up the stairs toward the last of the offices with Rhys on her heels. This was the only place left that it could have come from, and Rhys must have heard it, too, if he was right there with her. There was no mistaking it as they drew nearer to the executive suite. 

Someone was talking. 

She heard the words “ready to relay” being spoken in a low voice when they rounded that last door. 

_ Relay. _

She used all of her armored force to bust through the closed doors and then finally spotted her “something” there in the back corner. He was shrouded a bit by glass display cases, but the stealth boy had worn off. The air left her lungs in a whoosh and she felt the hair begin to raise on the back of her neck when she got a good look at her phantom in his long, black coat and sunglasses. 

She took a shaky breath to steady herself and quiet the static in her mind. 

_ Don’t let them see any emotion. _

She aimed down the barrel at the figure. 

_ If they come, you’re going to have to fight. _

Just as she’d fired a blast at the man, a crack thundered through and shook the whole of the building, his figure disappearing in a flash of bright light. Too late. 

Danse had been right, her aim cost her speed and she wasn’t fast enough. He..._ it? _... was gone. 

“The _ hell _ did we just see?” Rhys demanded, blinking rapidly while he tried to readjust his vision from the abrupt flash. Spots were dancing in front of her own eyes, and she’d had the benefit of a helmet. She almost felt bad for Rhys. 

“I think it was a synth.” 

“Well, no shit, Carter, but did it just...” 

“I think it was a courser,” she murmured. Even fully armored, she felt the goosebumps that still prickled up across her skin, but Rhys didn’t seem to hear her while he grasped for his own words. 

“It fuckin’_ teleported. _” 

“Yeah, did you hear him radio somebody for a ‘relay’?” 

“Yeah, what is that? So the mothership could zap it home?” he asked, but all Diana had in response was a shrug. “Christ,” he muttered. “They’re gonna think we’re nuts.” 

Rhys kicked around the room a little more, double checking the corners and looking for some sort of evidence for what they’d seen. Beyond a bit of shattered glass from a now-broken display case, beyond what seemed to have happened to Delta, they were empty handed. 

Her mind went back to Danse, and then to the holotags that were starting to weigh heavy in their safe space in the compartment. Had he found anyone else? Were they even alive? And – what were they supposed to tell Danse that they’d seen without any evidence? Ghosts? 

She took a deep breath where Rhys couldn’t hear her. The sun would rise again in a few hours. There was still a tomorrow to fight for. She’d figure it out, because Danse had already told her a long time ago that he wouldn’t judge what she had to say. 

* * *

Once Diana had started talking to her superiors, she felt herself lighten bit by bit as she confirmed her part of the report. She knew what she’d seen. They needed to know, too. 

Even though it sounded, as Rhys put it, “nuts”. 

“I know that it sounds unlikely, sir, but I know what I saw,” she quietly affirmed. She straightened up and stepped back now that she was done, uncertain of what they’d be thinking of her. 

“We both saw it,” Rhys added in. “I was right there the whole time. Besides, it’d make sense with what happened back at UP, too. Those synths all came out of nowhere when they shouldn’t have. That compound was structurally sound. Had high walls on all sides and it was backed up to the ocean. The only way in or out was through that front gate and it was the same tonight at the labs – only one way in.” 

Rhys stepped back beside her and looked to her to go on, and for now she was just thankful that he’d decided to stick up for her. “There were lightning strikes that night, too, but the skies were clear. We’d hear a crackle, see a flash of light...I remember feeling the static in the air. It even smelled like lightning.” 

It was strange, but she hoped it was making sense. 

“Ozone,” Danse interjected. She didn’t want to get caught looking back at him again, but she could almost picture the look on his face while he came to his own realization. “That same smell was present throughout the labs, but I dismissed it as laser fire.” 

“That’s right,” she added softly. She hadn’t even been thinking about that, but she felt some of the tension begin to leave her shoulders. She let out the faintest exhale and closed her eyes in relief. He still trusted her judgement. 

Elder Maxson, meanwhile, took a brief moment to scan through a piece of paper that had previously been laying across his desk. After reading through part of it, he handed it off to Danse to read. He watched the Paladin read through the document before he fixed his steel gaze back on her. “You say it requested a ‘relay’?” 

_ Relay _. The word rang through her head again until it faded into a whisper. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“I see,” he hummed and the room fell silent while the officers thought. “Your thoughts, Paladin?” 

“I - I don’t know.” Danse was still reading, but his eyebrows were shot halfway up his head – he flipped the paper over to read through a second time. “You don’t suppose that those energy readings we were monitoring had anything to do with this?” 

“I wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it until the three of you reported,” Maxson admitted, and then turned his focus back to Diana and Rhys. “Thank you – both of you. You’ve done well. I trust that the two of you can keep this quiet until we’ve prepared a statement for the crew?” 

They’d done well? 

“Affirmative, sir,” Rhys answered. 

“Well then, we’ll take it from here, Knights,” Kells said. “You’re dismissed.” 

Diana and Rhys both saluted their superiors, and she took one last glance across the room. She began to stomp back out as quietly as power armor would allow just behind the other knight before she got held back. 

“Carter -” 

She could swear there was warmth in his tone, and her heart skipped a beat where it shouldn’t have. 

“Yes, Paladin?” 

She looked back to see him turning that letter over one last time, still mulling over whatever he had just read. He set it down and turned his focus back to her. “Report back to me at 0630.” 

Not too long after dawn. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Go get some rest.” 

* * *

With the crash of a broken vase and the flash of a light that jumped through her dreams, Diana tumbled from her bunk and landed on a cold metal floor in a mess of tangled sheets. He was there to take them away, they were - 

She wrestled her legs free from the sheet. Her heart was pounding in her ears but she had nowhere to go. She had no reason to run, though - this was her bunk. 

At the foot of the bed was her locker. 

What few things had ever been hers in the world were right here, and she forced her breathing to slow. She was just on the Prydwen. 

“Caaaaarteerrrrrrrrr...” came the groans of her neighbors, shaking their heads when they sat up and found that the loud noise had only been her, this time. She felt heat spread from her cheeks all the way up to her ears, and she tugged the sheets tight around her body. 

“Sorry.” 

They muttered under their breaths and lay back down, one of them even pulling a pillow over his head in annoyance before he drifted back to sleep. 

It was true that she was a little bit of an insomniac. A lot of people were – that's just sort of how it was out in this world. It was normal, no big deal. If she hadn’t been here, she’d go look at the stars or hum a pretty tune, maybe dance around to a song a little if she knew for a fact that nobody was around to see – which was almost never. Right now, her heart was still racing, though, and it took several minutes for it to calm down. 

It was normal for her to have strange dreams. They’d never bothered her like this, and it was all because of that synth in the labs. He’d been in it, not that it made any sense because she’d been looking for someone else. 

When she couldn’t fall back asleep, she slipped from her mattress and picked up her boots, padding quietly past the other sleeping soldiers and down the stairs to her right. It would be safe to slip her boots on, here, far enough that her footsteps wouldn’t rouse anybody else from their slumber. 

She flicked the knob on her pip-boy to check the time – it would still be a while before she was supposed to report. Not that it would be, everyone was still asleep. She still felt a little unsettled after her dream, and remembered the picture in her pocket. She slumped against the cold metal of the wall to her side and pulled it back out to ease her thoughts, trailing a finger over the image and admiring the scenery in the dim light. 

_ They’re not yours. _

If they had been, she’d have felt something - she knew it. Even so, pre-war pictures did paint a pretty dream. 

Something small bumped into her leg while she was lost in her reveries, and a purr reverberated through the leather of her boot. She held a hand out and Emmett rubbed up against her scarred palm, closing his little eyes dramatically like he had been starved for affection. She let out a soft laugh and obliged, petting him until her nose began to wrinkle and itch. 

_ Achoo! _

She sniffled and the cat just skittered off, pausing at the end of the short walkway to look back at her. He gave her a low growl until she got up. Now that he was satisfied that she was going to follow his orders, Emmett pranced around the corner and into the repair bay. 

She wondered briefly where he fell in the chain of command, until she heard another warning from the cat. Higher than she was. 

“I’m coming," she assured. 

When she rounded the corner, herself, she stopped for a second to see what it was that the cat wanted. Danse was in there, too, with his back turned to her. She caught herself watching him work on his armor – she wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen him wearing jeans before, and she felt her cheeks beginning to warm because he looked _ good _ in them. 

She forced her attention back to the cat, glad that Danse had been lost in his work before Emmett hopped up on top of the nearby table that Danse’s tools sat on. 

“I suppose you’ve brought a friend to admire your handiwork?” she heard Danse grumble - he must have heard her walking in. For that comment, Emmett reached a slow paw outward toward a box of screws that Danse had sitting too close to the edge of his table. “You wouldn’t -” 

Before Danse could reach out to stop him, the cat swatted the entire box off of the table, sending them rolling throughout the bay. She’d already known that Emmett thought he outranked Danse, too, but not that he was this ruthless. Diana’s hand flew to her mouth to quiet her laugh and heard Danse heave an exasperated sigh at the cat. 

“What did you do to make him so mad?” she asked, making her way toward them. She made sure to stop to pick up any of the stray screws that had rolled her way. 

“I didn’t_ do _anything. He’s just impatient.” 

“About what?” 

“I wasn’t quick enough to pet him a bit ago while I was busy,” he muttered. She knelt down beside him to help with the last of the mess that had rolled under toolboxes and workbenches. “What are you doing up?” he asked, getting back to his feet now that everything had been cleaned. “Is something troubling you?” 

It was sweet of him to ask, but she wasn’t the only one awake. She’d noticed his odd sleeping habits, too.  
_Hypocrite ♥_

“I’ll be okay,” she assured him, reaching to take his hand when he offered it to help her up. She reminded herself not to get caught holding his hand this time. “It was just -” 

_ A dream. _

She drew her eyes up to meet his, to thank him for helping her up, but her jaw went slack now that she’d actually gotten her first good look at him since they’d reported. She couldn’t find words – or air, for that matter, because it had been knocked right out of her. 

No, now she was spellbound and in another world, completely. This wasn’t new, though. Danse had already done this to her before, a few times. She’d even admitted to him that he seemed familiar, and before it had been like light was trying to filter through and illuminate something that was still shrouded in shadow. If the other times had been the lone flick of a lighter in the dark, then this was the molotov that flame had lit – exploding in a flash and lighting everything around her ablaze. 

Her earlier thoughts had been right, maybe this was worse. 

To recognize someone, and then not remember. 

And, still under that same spell, she reached a hand up to place on his cheek, closing her eyes to try. Locked somewhere deep within, she felt almost like she was just on the edge of a memory. Was this that feeling that she’d been looking for, with the people in the picture that she knew weren’t hers? _Oh_, it made her heart ache. 

Her eyes fluttered open and his own were half-lidded, leaning back into her touch again. She found herself tracing light fingertips back down the line of his jaw, taking in all of the little details. If you took away the battle scars, the little bits of damage and the faint freckles that came from long days in the sun - 

“Who are you?” she whispered, and skimmed her thumb just under his bottom lip. Slowly, slowly she began to ease out of her trance, and_ oh my God what are you doing?! _

She withdrew her hand quickly and crossed her arms over her chest, forcing herself to look anywhere but the face that she had just been – what was she even doing? A thousand curses flew through her mind, all aimed at herself. At least she’d managed not to hold hands with him, this time. 

Danse, being Danse, had been left wide-eyed and dazed, the flush on his cheeks spreading all the way from his neck to the tips of his ears. It was cute, and she didn’t blame him at all considering how terrible she was with personal space. However, it didn’t take him long to relax and raise a confused, or maybe amused, brow at her. 

“I didn’t think shaving would cause such a powerful reaction. Does it really look that bad?” 

“No, not at all. You could never-” she swallowed, stopping her words there. She wasn’t sure he was capable of looking _ bad. _He just looked different, so different, without a beard. “I’m sorry. I was seeing ghosts, again.”

"Ghosts?"

"Mmm, ghosts. _But..."_

“But?” 

_ Stop staring at his lips. _

"But," she whispered. Now that her embarrassment had begun to fade, at least a little, she dragged her gaze back up across his face, looking him over one last time before she met his eye. “If you really want to know, I think the scruff suits you.” 

“Hmm. Perhaps -” He looked back down at her; brows now furrowed as though he were lost in his own thoughts. This time, she could swear he was the one scrutinizing her – looking over the shape of her features, the few cuts she now had.

"Yeah?"

He looked over her once more before shaking his head and looking away. “Perhaps I have some ghosts of my own.” 

She never got the chance to ask what he’d meant, though. Not with the sounds of sleepy soldiers waking up and pots and pans clanking in the mess hall next door. As soon as he’d heard the sound of that first boot hitting the metal floors above, Danse had put a safe distance between them. “Go get ready,” he ordered softly. “You still have to report with O’Connell here shortly.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

She took one last look at him before heading out and leaving him behind.

Diana believed in fate. It was romantic, the idea that some things were just destined to be. That whatever was out there might leave clues for you to find, and that you had to figure out what those clues meant.

But for now, there was no time for that cosmic treasure hunt. The sun had indeed risen, the day was now new. The time had come for them to go back out and fight for the next tomorrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Proofreading is for chumps," Tea muttered to herself before pasting the document into the browser. [seriously though it's been a long week and i'm tired of staring at this, i'll stare some more later. i'm leaving the damn emoji heart.]
> 
> Soooo, now that we've got the promised end to the previous chapter.  
YOUR THOUGHTS?
> 
> eta: MMmmmmmk, so, [THIS](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21363274/chapters/55353568) is a relevant one-shot. Not _needed_ to tell the story that I wanted to tell here, and it felt out of place added into this chapter [plus, added in, it took away the DRAMA and i wanted drama, bb.] It sort of explains Danse's comment to Emmett about "admiring his handiwork", though.


	29. Brontide

The Commonwealth was a strange sort of place. 

Closer to the ruins of the metropolis, it was busy – perhaps busier than Danse had ever remembered the Capital Wasteland being. Many perfectly good buildings were either taken over by scum, or deserted entirely in favor of smaller communities. The few of those communities that he had been through were packed with people. Ones that didn’t hesitate to pull a knife on you, people that were indifferent and that seemed to stare through you unless you had something they wanted. 

It was lonely, in some ways, as if you were trying to reach out into some sort of void. 

Then, outside of Boston proper like they were now, it was a different sort of lonely. Vast expanses of nothing that generally led to even more _ nothing _, save for the occasional buildings and tech that were scattered throughout. 

And, strangely - 

Well, lonely as those vast expanses may be, wandering the Commonwealth felt oddly familiar. Like a homecoming of sorts. 

That, or he was just used to wiping out hordes of mutants the same way he did back at the Capital. 

_“Go. Find out what happened to Artemis. We need any information that we can get in order to prepare for what lies ahead.” _

The orders they’d been given were, in part, to be sure that the Institute hadn’t gotten ahold of Brandis and his team._This _ wasn’t the fault of the Institute. Danse closed his eyes and took a long breath when he heard the sound of metal tags rattling as they were, for the fifth time in a matter of _ days_, carefully tucked into a safe place in Diana’s power armor. He pinched the bridge of his nose – damn headaches. 

It wasn’t the death that bothered him, he’d lost brothers and sisters many times before. Those that joined a military force ought to have some idea of what to expect, himself included. Aside from that, most people were better off joining the Brotherhood than they were trying to survive alone, but anyway, the point was that death didn’t necessarily bother him. 

The fact that his jaw was clenched had more to do with the circumstances surrounding those deaths. 

He turned back away from the scene and focused his attention on the surrounding area to think. He was careful not to lean against the ramshackle wooden doorway when he looked over toward large satellite dishes that still aimed skyward, the way they had centuries ago. Though, there wouldn’t have been wooden shacks haphazardly attached and dangling a hundred feet in the air back then. It definitely wasn’t intended to be a holdout for monsters. 

He looked at the ground below them, now littered with the unsightly green corpses of those _ wretched _\- 

_ Why is she exiting her power armor? _

He ripped his gaze back away from the ground to see what Diana was doing when he heard the hiss and clank of armor closing itself, only to find her kneeling down beside Scribe Faris’ body. 

“Hmm, I think I found something when I was taking his tags.” 

She pulled a holotape from one of his vest pockets, waiting until he’d joined her to play it. He supposed that she couldn’t very well access the player on her pip-boy while in the armor. 

“Good work. Let’s see what it says.” 

_“It’s been... two hours since the Paladin left. My leg... I can’t stanch the bleeding. Bullet must’ve hit an artery. Brandis... if you get this... I hope you make it back to Astlin in time. There was nothing you could do for me. Get to the bunker up north. You’ll survive. That’s all that... all that matters...” _

Damn it. 

“They must have come here for the comm system, likely to get word back to the Prydwen,” he paused a moment. Something still didn’t add up. Why would Astlin have been left to her own devices? According to his initial briefing, there had been five on Brandis’ team. 

And Faris, here... 

“What do you know about small group tactics, O’Connell?” 

The initiate’s eyes were wide when Danse called on him, clearly not expecting it from the way he slouched against the wall. “Uh, well sir, I...” 

Danse sighed. Was this recruit sober for any of his training? This was one of the first things that there was to learn, and Brandis, apparently, had little regard for that training. 

“He broke the first rule, here. Stick together,” Danse said through almost-clenched teeth. He stopped to take a deep inhale through his nose to ease the irritation that was beginning to tense his muscles, but ended up wrinkling his nose in disgust. That was a mistake. Mutant strongholds were pungent, to put it lightly. He held that breath, though, and exhaled slowly – opting to shift his attention and watch Diana rather than O’Connell. “_Always _ stick together.” 

True, the Commonwealth may feel lonely, but no member of the Brotherhood should ever be left to die alone. 

His irritation eased and he was left, instead, with a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. His gaze dropped back down to the mutants on the ground outside. Faris – alone. Astlin, back at the training yard – _ alone_. 

This could have been prevented. All of this could have been _ prevented_... 

“Diana?” he asked, voice low when they made their way back down together. Hopefully low enough to where O’Connell wouldn’t have noticed the informality. 

“Mhm?” 

“Put your helmet on.” _ Please_.

“Of course.” She seemed to study him for a few seconds before she snapped the piece of equipment over her head, and he had the urge to rub his jaw where his beard was just starting to come back in. She’d told him that she had been seeing ghosts the other night, and while they made their way through the stronghold to head north, he wasn’t the only one. 

* * *

The roads had been clear on a crisp summer morning last year. 

Danse and his team had made good time on their way to grid point a-113. Raiders hadn’t yet taken up residence at Camp Kendall, there had otherwise been few interruptions to their mission. They’d passed near the settlement of Bunker Hill on their way, and Danse could remember looking at the monument with admiration. It had been incredible that a landmark with so much historical significance had held up after all of this time. 

He’d love to see it up close and pay his respects if he ever got the chance. 

There was no time, then. Fort Strong was far too big an opportunity to miss, so they’d pushed onward until they arrived at Boston Airport. Ironically enough, they’d set up a bivouac there for the night because it had been clear. Danse had wanted his team fresh-faced and ready to take on anything the next morning. Who knew what sort of filth had holed up at the fort? He doubted they were the first to scout the location, and he hadn’t been wrong. 

Even rested up, the super mutants seemed to have come from nowhere the next morning. He had made it across that last toll bridge to the fort with Dawes and Rhys, leaving Haylen and Keane behind at the booth to await the all-clear and move forward. He’d known something was wrong. It had been too quiet, too _ easy _ for them to get where they were going. 

Dawes’ helmet was off, left back at the police station because the visor had cracked and needed repair. Danse had offered the Knight-Sergeant his own for the mission, but Dawes had declined. He, like a certain other knight, used to like to “feel the wind in his hair”. 

They never even saw that sledge coming. 

Immediately across the bridge they were ambushed, and Danse proceeded to unload what must have been an entire cell cartridge into the son-of-a-bitch that killed his Knight-Sergeant. He had to rip Rhys away when they saw the mutant behemoth rise up behind a few of the buildings – far too eager to avenge his brother and fight the horde. 

It had been the second retreat he’d ordered since they’d been in the Commonwealth. 

His death, at least, had been quick and he hadn’t been alone. They’d still managed to get the tags while they retreated. Some nights, he still wondered – would things have been different if Dawes had just taken the helmet? 

* * *

_ He hadn’t been alone, so focus. _

He could feel the breeze in his own hair, so he focused on that and listened to Diana’s pip-boy droning on as they traveled onward. They were just on the outskirts of Malden, nearing the team’s insertion point. The sound of the device led them to a nearby building that had all-but been obliterated. 

“Watch your step,” he cautioned as O’Connell nearly tripped over some of the debris to inspect the site. There was a large crater in the middle, which must have been what tore up the building, but - 

Hold on. Was that?   
He took a few steps over toward the hole. 

“Brotherhood power armor,” he murmured, and his brow furrowed while he counted out the suits that lay there. He gestured for the initiate to follow him while Diana trailed off to find the distress pulser and shut it off. “Look, you can still make out the insignia on the chest plate. What do you make of it, initiate?” 

O’Connell may not have earned back Danse’s trust yet, but he still had a duty to evaluate his performance and see if he was even fit for duty. So far, he wasn’t impressed. 

“Uh,” the initiate started, rubbing his arm nervously before he made his way toward the obliterated frames. 

“Take your time.” 

O’Connell concentrated and traced over the scorch-marks that had tainted the silver of the steel and left it grungy. Well, at least he seemed to be on the right track, this time. Danse could tell that the damage to the cores had been deliberate, but why? 

“Danse?” the soft voice behind him was a momentary reprieve. He left O’Connell behind to see if the initiate could piece the puzzle together himself, and joined Diana. Over near an overturned desk, he could just make out a bit of a bare armor frame sticking out from behind the furniture. 

“Yeah?” 

Another holotape. 

_ “Paladin Brandis: ...ambushed on the road. We’re outnumbered five to one! _ _ Varham__, report!” _

_ Knight _ _ Varham _ _ : Core’s down to 5%!” _

_ Brandis: We’ll have to scuttle the armor. We can’t let them have it- _

_ Knight _ _ Astlin _ _ : _ _ Varham__! _

_ Brandis: Damnit! _ _ Astlin__, set the self-destructs! Faris, fall back! We’ll head for the old military base, then try to make it to our holdout. The code will be our callsign. All right, move! Move! Move!” _

_ Another one. _What they’d done here was the right decision, though. If they didn’t have access to more fusion cores, they wouldn’t have made it much further. Scuttling the armor just meant that it wouldn’t be getting into the wrong hands later. 

This set of tags would make six, and he knelt next to his knight in a sort of unprompted moment of silence – in memory not just of Brandis’ team, but his own. Brothers and sisters that he’d fought beside, and then his thoughts roamed to the ones who had yet to fall, whose fates hadn’t yet been sealed. Would they be strangers, or people he knew? Or, perhaps he’d be the one to fall in battle. 

Maybe he looked grim, or maybe he’d sighed too audibly, because Diana placed a hand on his knee – just for a short moment. One that he appreciated, all the same. His gaze flickered between her armored hand and her face. Would she? Be the next one to – his chest tightened at the thought. He’d rather it be him. He’d rather it be his holotags, gently taken and kept close. 

He couldn’t stand the thought of any more blood on his hands. He'd been guilty of that long before he'd lost Dawes at Fort Strong, and he found himself trapped in those memories as they packed up to move onward from the scene. It had been about a year ago, now.

* * *

“Well, what do you say, Dawes? How did it look out there?” Danse asked the Knight-Sergeant, taking a long last drag from a cigarette before squashing the butt of it under a large, metal boot. 

“There’s some raiders, sir, but I think we can handle ‘em.” 

“Alright, then.” Danse looked toward the massive automobile factory off in the distance from the doughnut shop his team was temporarily occupying. Its rusted frame was being lit up by several floodlights that gave the plant an almost _ inviting _ glow while the sun set. Almost – he wasn’t a complete fool. “We remain here and observe for the time being, then move on them in a couple of hours when we can utilize the night-time cover.” 

“Yes, sir!” the team called back. 

“Now,” he turned his attention back to Dawes, “where were the entrances?” 

The factory was colossal, and he was hoping that if Dawes had only seen a few at an hour such as this, that they’d be passed out drunk, or drugged, or whatever else it is that raiders do by the time they moved in. Kidnap, enslave, murder... 

Ugh. 

Wastes of oxygen, the lot of ‘em. 

Worwick and Keane had been joking in the background with Rhys about ancient confections while Danse went over the findings with Dawes. Brach remained toward the rear of the shop, singing quietly to keep himself occupied while he watched their backs. Haylen chewed gum and used the countertop space to optimize her pack, offering occasional banter when the other soldiers dragged her into their conversation. She held her own against their wisecracks. 

Danse had been cautiously optimistic. So long as their cards were played right and they were successful, taking a pre-war automobile factory could prove to be a major boon for the Brotherhood of Steel. 

The breach came a couple of hours later. The retreat, only minutes afterward as they were overwhelmed by an onslaught far stronger than they’d thought – most of the raiders frenzied by copious amounts of what had to be Psycho. 

Worwick had been hit badly, though when the retreat had started he was still able to move. He may have survived if he hadn’t been hit again during the retreat, more of the rabble had been firing at them from the roof on the way out. That’s when they must have hit his spinal cord or something, and Dawes ended up having to carry Worwick, doing his best to keep Worwick still in his arms. 

They were almost clear when Brach had...Brach had... 

* * *

_ Almost there. _

That breeze he’d focused on earlier had grown a few knots stronger, by now, ushering a radiation storm in from the south that they needed to steer clear of. No matter, the holdout should be just up this hill. They could conclude their investigation and shelter in place until it passed. 

“Careful where you’re stepping,” he warned on the way up. “This location seems to have a few extra fortifications.” 

_ Damn land mines. _

He placed himself between his team and the mines, just to be sure there were no accidents, while O’Connell input the code to get the door open. The odds weren’t in Brandis’ favor, so he wasn’t entirely sure what to expect when they stepped through and - 

“Freeze!” someone yelled. 

Not that, damn it, but they were prepared for it. 

“Stand down!” he roared in response. Maybe she could hold her own in a sweep. Still, he lifted his own rifle and rushed through the door to her side, ready to take down whoever was threatening his knight while O’Connell shuffled in behind them. 

“Don’t!” now the gun was on him. “One more step and I’ll...I’ll blow your damn head off!” 

“Wait, it’s okay, Paladin,” Diana said, lowering her own rifle from where it was pointed. “The Lancer-Captain sent us to find you.” 

_ Paladin _ ? Danse blinked as the man came into focus in the dim light of the bunker. Was that _ Brandis _? After all this time, the old codger had survived it all, but at what cost? 

He’d been left broken. 

He’d been left_ alone. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my name is Peach “i’m gonna post this got damn chapter TODAY even if it kills me” Berry Tea. Peach “you know what, I think a shorter chapter with a cliffhanger sounds good” Berry Tea. 
> 
> We are in poor, sweet Danse’s head all chapter because I have _plans._ And, since I set myself some goals and I’m doin’ camp nano, that means those plans are gonna be written even if they kill me, too. I have a new goal of posting at LEAST bi-monthly, so those plans will be in place by the end of the month. I know I went from “all of the damn time” updates to “oh hey I'm not dead” updates. Can I hire one of you to boop me over the head with a cardboard tube to hold me accountable? 
> 
> In all seriousness, though, it’s been a rough month, hasn’t it? I hope you’re all staying safe. I hope that I can provide you all some comfort [even if that comfort is in a chapter of almost exclusively Danse’s inner turmoil]. 
> 
> Genuinely, I hope to be writing a lot more though. 1. I want to finish this, so I plan on doing camp nano in July, too. 2. my husband is classified “essential” and I may well lose my damn mind if i don’t practice a fair amount of like, productive escapism. 
> 
> We can all have a little escapism. As a treat.


	30. Do We Dream

_ Water, _ _ stimpaks _ _ , ammo - _

_ Ugh. _

Diana shifted in her armor and glanced toward the open door to the side – that radstorm wasn’t far away. Sure, she could admit that the strange, noxious green of the sky was eerily pretty, but she was not fond of the feeling of electricity building in the atmosphere. The static made her hair prickle and stand on end, the buzz of it sank all the way down to her bones. It made her nervous, leaving her on edge like she was waiting for something to happen. She wasn’t sure if she was weathering the storm, or waiting for the strike. 

On the bright side, they were inside of a bunker. But... this poor man. 

“Danse?” 

Diana felt heavy taking in the man trembling before them. He was supposed to be a Brotherhood Paladin, too, but now his cheeks were gaunt. His eyes were shifty and sunken in, darting between them and the armored door. How long had Brandis been walking on eggshells, having to fight through the Commonwealth all alone? She knew how that felt, and she’d only done it for a few days before she found Danse. 

No. _ Not just Danse _ – everyone in Cambridge. She had gotten lucky in ways that Paladin Brandis never had a chance to. 

What could she do? This wasn’t as easy as giving a can of water to a thirsty civilian or helping travelers defend themselves when they were in danger. She wanted to help him, and she didn’t know how. 

“It’s Danse. Paladin Danse – don't you recognize me?” 

“Danse...” Brandis mumbled. There was a flicker of recognition in the old man’s eyes before they began to well with tears and he blinked them away, not wanting to let them spill. “No. No, it’s been – it's been _ years_. Why would they – _ why are you here_?” 

_ Oh_, her heart ached. 

“I was dispatched to the Commonwealth on a recon mission, Paladin,” Danse said, his brows drawing together as he spoke. “Just like yours.” 

Brandis opened his mouth as though to speak, but then began to shake his head, still processing the unexpected visit. He resigned, though, and sunk down into a chair that he had stationed behind his makeshift guard post. “How did you even find me?” he asked. “I’ve been alone for so long, but nobody came. Nobody came.” Brandis’ throat bobbed a bit when he swallowed back whatever other words he wanted to say – or maybe that he just couldn’t get out. 

“We followed the distress pulsers left behind by your team. The holotapes we recovered led us here.” 

“Holotapes?” Brandis looked hopeful for a few seconds after Danse told him about those. Hopeful, until he realized what that must have meant. “Did they – did either of them even...?” 

“No.” 

“Of course not.” He sighed, taking his head in his hands. 

Holotapes... she still had them packed away, needed for when they reported back to the Prydwen. Holo_tapes_, but they were in there next to _ holotags_, too. Hmm... 

Brandis didn’t even look up at the hiss of opening armor when she stepped out, nor did he look up when she walked around and opened the little compartment on the front. Danse was watching her, though, head tilted just to the side while he observed. There was a little bit of a spark there in his eye when he figured out what she was up to. 

“May I?” 

“That would be an excellent idea.” 

“Paladin Brandis?” she asked, turning back where she could see him. He gave her a quick glance to size her up, then looked back at the rank painted on the armor she’d left behind. 

“You’re a knight,” he mused. “Forgive me, I don’t believe I remember you.” 

“No, you wouldn’t, I haven’t been with the Brotherhood for long. I have -” she unwrapped the steel tags from a bandana she’d gotten in the habit of carrying around. “I have your team’s holotags. Would you like them?” 

“I - yes.” 

Brandis almost seemed to flinch when she stepped closer, still overwhelmed by the sudden appearance of allies after so long. But then, after a moment just staring, he clasped his hands around hers to take them, holding them there for a moment. It was probably the only contact he’d had at all since he’d been here. 

“Thank you,” he said, visibly restraining a few tears. He cleared his throat and got up to make his way over to the bunker door. “Radstorms,” he explained, “creaky old joints can feel them coming on, now. You three can, uh, can stay here. If you need. Wait out the storm, at least.” 

Diana thought that he sounded almost hopeful that they would stay, that he was hoping for some company. But if that were the case, would that mean - 

“Aren’t you coming back to the Prydwen with us, sir?” 

“She’s here?” 

“Yes.” 

“I don’t know. Look at me. At _this_,” he said, gesturing to the room surrounding them. It was the first time she’d really taken in their surroundings after what they’d walked into. And, well, maybe it was a bit messy – crates stacked here and there with random bits and baubles, a few shelving units with oddly categorized tech. Oh, and vacuum tubes, _so many_ vacuum tubes. “Would they even take me back?” 

She didn’t have the authority to give that kind of answer, but she had hope. She was messy, too, in ways that Brandis wasn’t. In the literal sense, Danse often made comments on the state of her workbench while she cleaned her rifle or fixed her armor. Figuratively speaking, though? 

_ Water, _ _ stimpaks _ _ , ammo – check. _

“It may be some time before you’re cleared for duty,” Danse cautioned, “but you’re still a part of the Brotherhood, Paladin.” 

Danse’s answer made her feel that maybe her hopes were justified. Maybe, just _ maybe, _if they stayed here tonight, they could convince him to come back with them. 

* * *

_ Hmm? _

Something besides the steady buzz of the nearby fusion generator stirred, and Diana opened slow, sleepy eyes to find Danse just a few feet away – restless and cleaning his rifle. The last she had seen of him, he’d just started to doze off, not even using the bedroll that he had laid out. Instead, he’d been sitting up and braced against the concrete wall where the door would be in his sight. 

Just in case. 

She watched his hands work as he wiped something off of the cartridge release and reloaded. 

He hadn’t quite been himself while they were on this mission to find Brandis. Danse was always guarded, but the past couple of days he’d just seemed... more than that. He’d been intense. _ Charged _. 

And, since they were assigned to observe Rian, she hadn’t been in a position where she could check in. Not really, anyway. Not beyond the occasional brush of a hand on his knee, or sometimes she might call a number out to him if she took down another hostile. They _ did _still have that bet going on. 

He might look back and smile, briefly, and then they’d keep going – always going. 

Diana glanced at the book that he’d let her borrow a little while ago when she couldn’t fall asleep and reached for it when she sat back up. Maybe he would like it back. She wasn’t worried about finding her place, again. She was close enough to the end, just past the part where the man was talking about how lonely he was - and that book was right. 

_ “A guy goes nuts if he _ _ ain’t _ _ got nobody.” _

Her gaze swept the room and settled on O’Connell and Brandis, tucked away in the beds in the opposite corner. Both were still deep in their slumber, lost and dreaming away their eventful days. 

_ “I tell _ _ ya _ _ ,” _

Her attention didn’t stay there long, instead drifting back to Danse’s bedroll not far from her own, where he should have been asleep, then to him. He was already getting up, locked and loaded and headed for the door. Their eyes met when she stood and pulled her suit back up over her shoulders. She dusted herself off, laced her boots - 

_ “I tell _ _ ya _ _ a guy gets too lonely an’ he gets sick.” _

\- and then she followed him, catching up to where he now waited for her at the door. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he grumbled, scratching at the back of his neck after they’d stepped out of the shelter. The mist outside still clung with leftover energy from the storm. “It took you quite some time to fall asleep.” 

“It took you a while, too.” 

Even in safe places, behind armored doors. 

“Perhaps. You didn’t have to come with me, though.” 

_ Then why did you wait? _

“Yes, I did. _‘Always stick together’_,” she reminded him. Using his own words against him earned her a wry smile. “So, where are we going?” 

“Not far. I could have sworn I heard something...” He did a quick survey of their surroundings. There were the walls of the hillside that the bunker was carved into. A few dead trees on top of the hills. A couple big rocks and the sound of a creek nearby. Not much else, though, at least not right outside of the door. He sighed. “I suppose it could have been my imagination.” 

Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, the moon was full and the storm was gone and she wouldn’t mind being outside for a little bit. 

“Well,” she said, checking her own pockets and getting irritated at herself for having to. _ Just in case _ – she wasn’t so different from Danse, either. “Let’s go scouting, anyway.” 

“Alright, then. Lead the way, soldier.” 

* * *

_ Ugh. _

It turned out that those sounds hadn’t been his imagination, after all. 

“I think that’s the last of them,” Danse noted. He felt a little of the tension leave his shoulders while he stood counting out the bodies of the molerats they’d taken out, then counted the tunnels that they’d burst from a couple hundred feet from the bunker. Damn things must have been digging near the concrete walls he’d been using to prop himself up. 

What he wasn’t sure of was whether he’d seen five of these damned things, or if it had been six. 

“Good. You know, this puts me at 24, _ Paladin_.” 

The crack at his title pulled a bit of a chuckle from him. He’d never intended to wake her – trying not to wake the others was the reason he hadn’t bothered to suit up. No, his only intention was a quick look outside, though he couldn’t say he wasn’t glad for the company. Especially when that company was looking up at him with a mischievous spark in her eyes, the corner of her own lips quirked up. 

She had been nothing short of professional since they’d left base, staying well within the boundaries of superior and subordinate. Both of them had an example to set, but, well... as nice as it was to have a knight that bothered to listen to his rhetoric, he’d started to miss the way she usually blurred those boundary lines. 

“Don’t think I’m going easy on you, _ Knight _,” he countered, returning his attention to the holes scattered in front of them. “I’m not so sure that this diseased filth should even count.” 

He didn’t intend to address the fact that she had a lead – even if it was only by one. 

“I think they should count as two.” 

“What? How do you justify that?” 

“Because they keep tunneling out of sight.” 

“That doesn’t even make sense. Besides, you can’t just make up new rules as we go along.” 

“I think it makes plenty of sense!” she teased. At this point, she was just trying to get a rise out of him. “Plus, it’s my game. Who says I can’t make up new rules?” 

“I do,” he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest and pretending to dig his heels in. 

Then, she pulled that lip between her teeth. _ Then _, she cocked her head a bit to the side and studied him, not unlike she had after his shaving incident with the cat. “Am I getting on your nerves, yet?” 

“Thoroughly," he drawled.

_ Absolutely not_. He kept his face straight saying it, but her laugh told him that she knew him better than that. He hadn’t only missed the blurred lines, he’d missed _ her _, and that was something he had no right to. Especially at this moment, when there may or may not still be rats lurking about. “All joking aside, we should double check for more of the rats before we head back in.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Just like that, he was in charge again. In spite of himself, he ended up watching her trail away when she brushed past him, drawn in by the way that she moved. Whether he had that right or not, he did find himself in better spirits. 

He shook his head at himself. 

Well, she wasn’t going far, only to investigate something near a large rock. Satisfied with that, he returned his focus to the task at hand – deciding whether everything was accounted for so they could pack it up and head back - 

His train of thought went haywire at the sound of rapid beeping coming from somewhere nearby. He needed to get down. She needed to get down. Time sped up, a flurry of action happening all in a matter of seconds. After that surge, though, time stopped. Or, perhaps it slowed. He had no idea. Everything was melted together. 

_ Brach... _

Danse’s jaw had clamped shut, he’d drawn so far into himself that every muscle in his body had tensed. Even his chest had tightened to the point where it ached and his breathing was left shallow. 

Brach had set off that mine. They had almost been clear on that retreat from Corvega. Almost clear and so close to safety, and in an instant the Knight was too far gone. Too far gone for Haylen to save. 

* * *

“We’re safe.” 

The voice was far away, almost as if it were static in the background. 

_ Get it together. _

Danse drew in a long, almost-shaky breath, forcing himself to count it out and feel the chilled, damp air settle in his lungs and turn warm. He focused on the feeling of the soft insides of well-worn leather gauntlets. The sound of air rushing through the narrow, rocky gully they were in. He focused on the give of the earth against his palms, that his knees dug into. Present things. _ Tangible _things. 

It seemed to be working. His heart rate was no longer sky-high. With another, more steady breath he took in the smell of the dirt that mixed in with hubflower and leather coming from the woman beneath him. 

The woman beneath him? 

… 

The woman beneath him, whose hair he seemed to have buried his face in. The pair of them had landed in the dirt, their limbs entwined in a heap. With the slow return of his senses, he could feel the rise and fall of her chest against his own. 

“We’re safe,” she murmured again, running her fingers along his spine to try and soothe the shock. He could feel the warmth of her breath in his ear. For a short time, he remained. Just breathing. 

Slowly, so slowly, he raised himself back up on his elbows. Slower, still, did he move until he was sat back on his knees, not quite able to look her in the eye, yet. Instead, he found it easier to stare at the ground between them. 

_ Damn land mines. _

“Are you hurt?” It was all he could manage to get out, but he needed to know. Had _ he _hurt her? 

“I’m alright.” 

“I’m -” he started. He, _ what _? Well, with the perceived threat behind them and the rush of adrenaline beginning to subside, his energy was sapped. He broke his long glare at the ground and dragged his eyes up to meet hers. “I’m sorry.” 

What did she even think of the man on his knees before her? The _ Paladin _, reduced to an unreasonable, panicked mess. Those mines weren’t even on this side of the gully. They were further back toward the entrance, apparently triggered by that last molerat they were looking out for. Damn thing had to tunnel out in the worst possible place. 

From a logistical standpoint, he’d had absolutely no reason to charge at her and knock her to the ground, even if he’d only meant to protect her in the heat of the moment. And then – he swallowed. He also had no right, pulling her in like that and keeping her so close. 

“Danse?” she asked, reaching forward to bridge the space between them. Blurring the lines, again. Letting her touch graze his arm. Even if he had no right to it, he ached for more of that comfort. For the hubflower and leather, for the whispers in his ear. “What do you need me to do?” 

She was worried about him. His gaze dropped down to her lips, where there was still a small scar left from that fiasco at Beantown. His mind wandered to that need she had to check for her supplies – the wasteland was beginning to wear on her, scratch by scratch. He didn’t deserve any of her concern, in fact he should be the one worrying about her. All of his team, really. 

“I’m not sure.” 

“Well, I’m not going anywhere,” she said, shifting closer to sit beside him. “Promise.” 

And there it was, another pinky held out for him to take. He wanted to. 

He took a deep breath and let them hook together. When he was ready, he broke that connection to gaze long into the distance. “Before you showed up, I lost several members of my team,” he admitted. “Truth be told, I worry about the toll that’s taken on those of you that are left. You’ve seen firsthand Rhys’ tendency toward aggression, and Haylen -” 

He thought about Haylen’s quiet desperation to get her patients to safety during the Cambridge ambush. It was a hint that the wastes, or perhaps the war, had begun to wear on her as well. He could still hear her sobs if he closed his eyes and thought about the night that they’d lost Worwick. 

“One of the men that we lost had been shot by raiders during a retreat. Haylen stayed by that Knight’s side for two days straight without sleep, fighting to keep him alive... but he was on a slow decline. I decided that his suffering needed to end, and ordered Haylen to administer an overdose of painkiller so that he could die with dignity. Even though I’m certain she wanted to continue fighting for that Knight’s life, she injected him without question.” 

“Danse, that’s awful.” 

“Is it?” he challenged. He could feel himself beginning to glare at the dirt. What other choice was there? Being left paralyzed was bad enough, but with the internal bleeding to boot – he stopped to look at her before his thoughts could get any further away from him. 

She wasn’t being critical. Not at all. He flexed his hand in his glove and felt the pull of the leather, grounding himself in that before he released the tension. 

This was _ exhausting. _

“I’m sorry.” 

“Danse, it’s fine.” 

“No, it’s not,” he corrected. She was the last person he wanted to bite at in defense. “I’m not good at talking about these things. Why would you even put up with my blathering?” 

“I was worried about you, Danse.” 

“I know, but that burden shouldn’t fall on you.” 

“Then who?” 

What was that supposed to mean?

“I’m not sure what you’re asking.” 

“You said you were worried about the team, you were worried about your Knights, right?” 

“Of course, I’m worried!” He couldn’t help the frustration that built. The memories were burned into him, by now. Rhys going off and punching a hole through one of the station’s dilapidated doors after the retreat from Fort Strong. Haylen standing there after Corvega, fidgeting with the clipboard she was using to file her medical reports. Haylen barely holding it together until she collapsed in his arms sobbing. “What if you all end up like – like _ this?” _

_ Like him. _Cowering at the sound of land mines. 

“Danse,” she murmured, and his eyes fluttered shut at the sound of his name on her lips. “Look at me.” 

_What?_

“Look at me,” she repeated, firmer this time. 

None of this made any sense to him, but he did as he was told. He looked at her, with those always-loose strands of hair that had fallen from her bun and framed her face - 

“Haylen is going to be okay, we are all going to be okay because we’re supposed to _ stick together _. You’re probably the best leader we could have asked for.” 

\- and with eyes that always sparkled when she was up to something, that _ always _gave away when she was lying. She didn’t look like she was lying, now. 

“That bit of darkness you carry doesn’t diminish your worth. You’re a_ good man _, Danse.” He found himself staring, because she also had soft-looking lips that spoke kind words. “So, I want to know. Who worries about the Paladins?” 

She was _ beautiful_, and before he knew it, she had crashed back into his arms. Well, damn it, he had _ eyes – _he'd noticed some time ago. It’s just that it had never really mattered, but he couldn’t lie and say he’d never thought about it. 

_ “Don’t worry, Danse, I care way too much about you to let that happen.” _

And thought about it. 

_ “I’m sorry. I was just seeing ghosts.” _

She had almost forced him to think about it, all the while never meaning to. He closed his eyes and pulled her in close. He remembered the feeling of her hand on his face, her thumb brushing under his bottom lip, how_ intimate _ that had been. And after all that thinking he had done, all of the remembering, he had come to the same conclusion every time. 

“There are protocols,” he said softly, “but...” 

“But?” 

He smiled a bit, knowing that this time it was her that was left confused. _ But_, she had gotten to know him in ways that nobody else had in some time, which was partially his own fault. _ But_, she wanted to know who worried about the Paladins. 

But – in spite of _everything_, she still thought he was a good man, and that meant more to him than he had the words for. 

“Decorum may prohibit it, but I... I like being this close to you.” 

“I do, too.” 

They sat like that for a little while, just holding each other in the dirt before it was time to go back in. Light was just starting to peek over the horizon, and they still had an example to set and one other Paladin to persuade to come with them. They still had jobs to do, and soon enough she was slipping from his arms to head back. 

“Before we go in,” he started, his stomach beginning to twist. “I feel I should apologize.” 

“You don’t have to.” 

“Perhaps, but you just saw me at my worst. I suppose I’ve never realized how much everything was weighing on me.” 

“Danse, I’m not going anywhere. You can always talk to me if something’s weighing on you.” She paused before they got to the door, looking off toward where the sun was coming up. “Maybe one of these days, things like that won’t happen, anymore.” 

“I suppose we can dream.” 

“I will _always_ dream.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm probably gonna come through and edit this again later, as one does.  
I'd like to thank followthefreedomtrail and tombromance both. They are beautiful and talented and A+ friends and authors. Also they put up with my shit and they helped me out by beta-ing and giving suggestions. I hope that shows <3
> 
> The "Danse, look at me. You are a good man" part is I think the OLDEST headcanon I have for their entire relationship. However, it wasn't quite supposed to end up like this? With some serious feelings-catching going on? Hope y'all still have teeth after that.
> 
> Carter isn't a super stubborn character, but she was like "FRICK U I AM GOING TO HOLD THIS SAD MAN"  
so I kinda...  
let her.
> 
> My brain is tired i've been editing and writing and rewriting parts of this for the last few hours because I was gonna make good on my damn promise to have something by the end of the month. Hopefully it was worth it :)
> 
> oh, CRAP. oh crap oh crap oh crap.  
I've mentioned before, but Danse's book that she is borrowing, and _quoting_ to herself, is Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck <3


	31. Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've updated the tags, however this serves as both a spoiler and a warning -
> 
> We're dealing with implied <s>child death</s> over the course of this arc.

Was it the lightning, or the laser? 

If only she could _ remember_.

The leftover mist had swirled all around when the vertibird landed that morning, bits of sunlight caught all in a shimmer in fine water droplets as they danced. And, well, maybe the team had been just far enough north that the pines, although petrified, could still carry a bit of that after-rain smell. It was a _ good _ smell – the smell of promise, the smell of someday. Of _ hope_. 

Diana’s spirits had only been lifted further knowing that Paladin Brandis wouldn’t be too far behind. At least, as soon as he’d gotten all of his things together. She and Danse had left O’Connell behind with the man to help pack up, and they made sure to give the two a couple of extra signal grenades so that they could call their own ‘bird when they were ready. 

Then there was Danse – she'd stolen more than one glance at him on their ride to the airport. He’d even caught her doing it. She might have swooned just a little bit when that usual stern, professional look of his had softened into something else entirely. 

This part of the day, she could remember clearly. 

It was just nice, so nice – a morning where she felt like she’d helped make the smallest of differences. It felt that way for a little while, at least. 

Right now, clinging to that hope felt dumb. 

Short-sighted. 

_ Naïve_. 

Promises had turned to ash in her grasp, and now all she felt was a darkness that had cut through to her core and threatened to swallow her whole. The only light she could see came from the small device that Cade was using to examine her while she sat on the command deck, still waiting for Elder Maxson to make his appearance. 

“Hmm,” Cade paused, clicking the little flashlight off once he was done shining it in her eyes. “Pupillary response is normal. You said she ate before the two of you left?” 

Cade’s question was directed at Danse, whose brow was still wrinkled in deep concern. He had kept his arms clasped behind his back, still trying to look professional even though she could tell how worried he was. He hadn’t stopped shifting in his armor the whole time. 

“Affirmative. We shared provisions not long before we boarded the _ Halberd_. It wasn’t any more than two hours ago.” 

“I see.” 

Even with Danse’s assessment, Cade was still placing a few packets of crackers on the table next to her. “Well, there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with you, Knight. I’d have guessed that it was your blood sugar, but if you had just eaten...” The Knight-Captain stood, snapping his medical bag shut and offering her a sympathetic look. “Well, perhaps it was just stress.” 

_Stress_? Her own brows furrowed and her gaze dropped down to her boots. No, she – she could handle it. She had _been _handling it. In fact, she wasn’t any more ‘stressed’ than anyone else on this airship. She had it so, sososo _easy _compared to the rest of the crew. They were the ones that deserved Cade’s sympathetic smiles and kind looks, not her. She didn’t deserve anything, because she couldn’t even _remember _\- 

“I’m going to recommend a few days’ worth of leave.” Cade glanced from Diana to Danse, pursing his lips as he spoke. “For _ both _of you.” 

Danse’s mouth dropped open to protest, but Cade waved him off with a heavy sigh. “It’s already been a long day, Paladin. Don’t make it any longer by arguing. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” 

She heard the clank of the metal beneath Cade’s boots as he made his exit, never looking up from the untied laces on her own. She bit her lip to keep it from trembling, her stomach began to twist now that the check-up was over and she was left behind to face reality. 

“Knight?” 

The reality that what she did remember, as clear as her morning filled with hope, was the orange flare going off on the beach when the ‘bird first docked. You’d think it was a misfire, that maybe someone dropped something on the ground below. They were on their own territory, for Christ’s sake, but she still should have known. She should have figured it out when she first noticed that stupid _ crow _perched on the railings before they even managed to step out of the Vertibird. 

“_Diana_.” 

The sound of her name pulled her from her spiraling thoughts. Maybe Cade was right about the stress.

She’d been biting down on her lip so hard by the time she dragged her gaze up to meet Danse’s that it was almost surprising that she hadn’t drawn blood. For now, they were still alone on the deck while Maxson soothed the shaken family up in the medbay. They were still safe enough for the small informalities, but not safe enough for her to collapse into his arms the way she so badly wanted to right now. 

Anything to feel like she wasn’t going to drown. 

“There wasn’t anything that you could have done,” he started, searching for the right thing to say. There were no right things to say, but he knew that - the somber look on his own face and the way he held her gaze gave him away. She knew she wasn’t the only one keeping the storm at bay, Danse was just better at it. 

He was trying. 

“I made a promise,” she whispered, struggling to get the words past the lump building in her throat. She couldn't handle the way he looked at her, and dropped her head in shame. “Maybe if I hadn’t...” 

“No.” 

Maybe if she hadn’t fallen, or blacked out, or _ whatever _it was, she’d have made it in time. 

“I was too late, Danse.” 

“_No,_” he repeated, “this isn’t your fault.” Before she could argue, he moved closer and a cold metal hand tipped her chin up to look at him. He didn’t linger, not while they were still on the command deck, but that brief touch did soothe her some. “Would you like me to take the tags? You’re free to go, if you’d like.” 

“No, I’ll be fine. I should stay.” 

“Alright.” 

She wanted to be here, whether it was her fault or not. If she closed her eyes, she could still remember that crow on the railing and that orange flare so clearly. She could remember Danse behind her, asking the knight posted at the door who was out on the beach. By the time the words had left his mouth she had already peered over the railing and to the ground below. 

There had been four small dots racing toward the airport gate, then three dots when one got taken down. Another thing she could still remember was the feeling of her blood turning to ice in her veins when the realization had struck, the clatter of her helmet dropping to the walkway when she let go of it and raced to the end where she could jump the railings. By then, the alarm had sounded and Danse wasn’t far behind. Another thing she remembered were the words that rang through the air - 

_ “Squires on the beach!” _

This was where her memory started to get hazy, and she hated herself for it. 

She could still almost remember the shake of the earth when Danse landed after her, and somewhere in the mix of it all, a flock of crows adding to the chaos. She had almost made it; she had even _ hit _the – the synth. The last thing she remembered was a smile that stretched hideously across his face when she blasted a round at him. She thought he said something to her. 

She just didn’t know. 

Everything got too warm, too dizzy, and then there was just _ nothing_. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember this part, and she had bargained with every deity there was to get some of that memory back. 

She could not remember whether there was lightning or laser fire to know for sure what happened, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t have to remember to know that she came to moments later near a pile of ash, little holotags glowing atop it. 

Even with the evidence she was still here looking up at her Paladin, feeling short-sighted and naïve. Somewhere deep down, she still clung to the hope that maybe, even with the little holotags that she held on to so tight, a laser had never been fired.

That maybe the boy she had promised to protect was taken in the lightning, instead. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been stuck in one of those editing loops again, and this time I didn't ask anyone to look over it so hopefully we're good.  
I know it's a short chapter, and intentionally pretty vague. I had to write around it, a little bit, in order to be able to figure out how exactly I wanted to fit all of the upcoming pieces together.
> 
> We're in a delicate part of the story. I have about 100 dots to connect over this arc, I have to give some payoffs and I have to do some setting up for other things, and this is a catalyst for a few things. I promise promise promise that I wouldn't write it if it weren't important to the story as a whole or important to my end game goals. I won't go into it beyond that because it would sort of spoil my plans, but I'm happy to answer any questions you might have.
> 
> That said, I'm sorry. I've got a couple of lighthearted things hopefully in the works.


	32. Si Vis Pacem...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are still dealing with the same implications as last chapter.  
Apologies in advance.

Anybody that was looking for peace and quiet was going to have a hell of a time finding it, this morning. 

On the floor below the sleeping quarters, several knights were assigned to shuffle crates to and fro. On top of that, they had scribes polishing damn near every inch of the place, all for some sort of delegation that Maxson was s’posed to be bringing in. It was a dangerous combination of activity, Ashton reckoned, and it didn’t take long for some dipshit to prove him right. 

A big crash echoed through the whole of the ship while the fool’s curses drifted upward through the grated floor, and Ashton chuckled when he heard Ingram immediately get after him for dropping her tools. 

In short, it was chaos down there. 

He glanced up from the laser pistol he was cleaning at a table, still tucked away in the sleeping quarters and _ above _all that racket. He still couldn’t decide whether he’d lucked out – all he had to do was babysit a couple of the older squires who wouldn’t stop goin’ on about their plans for the day. Petey and Williams both were due to head down to the beaches for special lessons, and for firearms training, no less. He wondered briefly if they were just being posted there to keep ‘em from getting underfoot. 

When another crash sounded from the floor below, Ashton figured that, yeah. The kiddos would only add to all that commotion. Especially if they were tripping over themselves trying to eavesdrop on their Elder, again. It ended up taking _ weeks _to quiet all those deathclaw rumors from the last time they (well, mostly Williams) did that. 

“_Whoa_,” Williams murmured before he stuffed the last of his breakfast in his mouth. Peter flipped the page on a copy of Guns and Bullets that Ashton had given them to look through, and boy – their eyes were bigger than a pair of baby Brahmin’s. 

“Right?” Peter whispered back. 

“Hey, Petey? D’you think this means we’re gonna get to go out with the Knights again, soon? Maybe we’ll get to help shoot down the synths!” 

_ Shoot down the _ – aw, hell. Maybe he shouldn’t have given the boys that book, after all. 

“Now, hold on a minute,” Ashton interrupted, scowling up from his work with the pistol. “Don’t y’all be jumpin’ to any conclusions. It’s just a _ trainin__’ exercise_. You get in too much of a tizzy, you’re gonna be shootin’ off rounds that don’t need to get shot. You got it?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

The two boys shrunk a bit in their seats and Ashton directed a pointed look at his brother. The two were old enough to know better than to get so excited over a couple of guns. Not to mention that the two of ‘em knew _ damn _well that squires weren’t allowed out on patrols, right now. They had to be kept close with all of them crazy new reports that were floating around the decks. 

Ashton might’ve chalked it all up to more rumors if Arthur hadn’t confirmed the stories, himself. Teleportation? And _ worse _– the Institute replacing humans with exact synth copies? Just the thought of it all was enough to make his stomach turn. 

Still, it wasn’t like anybody could tell. _ Williams_, of all people, didn’t need to be getting any ideas about folks being synths. Not while he was carrying a loaded gun, at least. Even if they were trying to keep the kids out of the way for a little while, whoever had the bright idea to send _ that _boy down to the beach ought to have their noggin’ looked at. 

“Now, then,” Ashton began. With the gun now cleaned, he double checked that the safety was still on and set it carefully in the middle of the table between him and the boys. “Don’t leave it loaded unless you’re usin’ it,” he instructed, tapping a gloved finger on the empty space where cell cartridges went. He reached in to take a single fusion cell from his jacket pocket and set it down next to the pistol. “And keep that safety on unless you’re shootin’.” 

Peter, at least, already knew all this stuff by heart. Ashton had made sure of that several times. Honestly, though? He wasn’t too worried about it. He’d already been carrying since he was around Pete’s age, anyway. It’s just how things were, out there. So long as they kept their little heads level, they’d be fine. 

“Last thing. Never, _ ever _point one of them things at anybody unless you know for sure you’re gonna use it. It stays pointed down. Always. Unless you know for a fact that you’re in danger, at least.” 

“Even if-” Williams started, but Ashton knew exactly where this was going. The boy did have a tendency to get carried away with his imagination, after all. 

“That _ includes _ synths. We ain’t got any way of knowing for sure if someone even _ is _one, yet.” 

“We know, Ash...” Peter almost whined, and that prompted Ashton to raise a brow at him. The kid’s distaste for lectures was one of the few things that ever gave his age away, and Lord help him, if this got worse when he was a teenager... 

Well, he didn’t have to worry about that for a few more weeks. 

“Just makin’ sure. I don’t think anybody’d appreciate a round blasted at their backside. Anyway,” Ashton’s eyes flicked to an alarm clock nearby. “You two had bettered get on out of here. It’s my hide if you’re late.” 

He chuckled when the younger squire scampered off toward his family’s bunks, likely because he’d forgotten something. He leaned across the table to send Peter off with one last piece of advice, and Peter leaned in to listen. “Do me a favor,” he said, checking over his shoulder to make sure Williams was still gone. “Keep an eye on Williams out there, would you? You know how his momma gets.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

Peter grinned back up at his older brother – oh, he knew full well. _ Scribe _Williams, the boy’s mom, was a chronic worrier and oftentimes a vertibird parent. ‘Specially on occasions like today where her other half was out on patrol somewhere in the ‘wealth. She’d damn near talked Ashton’s ear off fretting over it the night before while Peter quietly laughed at his brother’s expense. 

Neither of the Morgans could figure out how she hadn’t gone prematurely grey. 

“Tell you what. I’ll let you keep that magazine if you can manage to out-shoot your friend.” 

“Oh, you’re on!” 

They shook on it, and the boy put his pack on and ducked out of there before Ashton had a chance to ruffle his hair or embarrass him with a “love ya, kid”. He reckoned that was alright, though. The boy’d be a knight before either of them knew it, so he was just going to have to get used to the idea of letting him go. 

* * *

It really was nice outside today, and perfect weather to train out on the beach. The sun was shining bright, bouncing off of the waves, and even if they didn’t get to use the big range with the other Knights, the sea breeze felt pretty good. It kept it from being so hot outside that the boys would complain, but it wasn’t strong enough to mess with any projectiles...right? Did wind even mess with laser bullets? 

Peter was almost embarrassed to ask, but he figured he could swallow his pride and ask Ash at the end of the day, maybe. 

The boy squinted off into the distance to check the dummies on the far end of the beach, wondering if he’d vaporized the other target sheet. He hadn’t, and after this round, he had proof to show Ashton that he was getting pretty good with his aim. He waited for Knight-Sergeant Taylor, their instructor, to give them the go-ahead to go fetch their sheets. 

He might have had to remind himself to keep his cool and not run down the range like Matt did. He was too old to get _ that _excited about it – he'd be a thirteen in a month. Not that he was counting, or anything. 

“Petey, look! I got one!” 

He rolled his eyes and grinned back at his friend once he’d caught up. “Yeah, ‘cuz you got lucky. Look how far apart your marks are.” 

Matt grinned back. “Still got one.” 

Peter reached up to snatch the sheet off of his target and admire his own work. He had managed to get one right through the middle, and he decided that Ash’s magazine was as good as his. He started to carefully fold the paper up to tuck away in his vest before Taylor blew the whistle to get their attention. 

“Let’s pack it all in, boys!” Taylor called from way down the beach. “Tide’s starting to come in!” 

“Yes, sir!” they called back, and began the task of tearing down the rest of their equipment. They were a little ways out past the airport gates, past all of the broken airplanes and the place where the Brotherhood burned some of their trash, but it wasn’t so bad. Taylor had a buggy downwind that they could throw all of their stuff in once they’d gotten it all dragged to him. 

Getting everything else to the airport would be cake with that thing. 

“Hey, Petey?” 

“Peter,” he corrected. There was no way he’d still be going by baby names by the time he was an initiate. He hoped. 

Matt rolled his eyes right back at the older boy. “Whatever. Can you help me pull this out of the sand? Mine’s stuck in the muddy part.” 

“Why’d you pick that spot to set it up?” 

“I dunno. It wasn’t muddy when we started setting up.” 

Stupid tide. 

“Here, just drag mine back. I’ll get yours.” 

With a little bit of effort, Peter was able to get the literal stick out of the mud, almost falling back when he finally pulled it from the sand. He turned to follow Matt back to their mentor, only to find that the other squire hadn’t made it very far. Instead, he was only maybe 10 or so yards away, staring off toward one of those super-old airplanes that littered the beaches. 

“Petey, I heard something.” 

_ Peter _, he mentally corrected, but perked up to listen. He hadn’t noticed anything, but then again, he’d been pretty busy trying not to fall over. “Probably just radgulls or something.” 

Or those crows that had started hanging around earlier this morning. 

“No, I heard a crash...” 

“Maybe it came from Logistics, then. They always have crates of heavy stuff.” 

“I dunno...Logistics is kinda far away.” 

Well, whatever it was, maybe Taylor had heard it, too. Their mentor had left his post and started toward that same plane that Williams was looking at, checking over his shoulder to be sure that it hadn’t been the squires’ fault. They were the only other people out there, though. 

At least, that’s what Peter had thought. There were an awful lot of places to hide between the planes and crates and trash, and the spot on the other side of the beach where vertibirds parked for maintenance. 

He shared a funny look with Williams when a man in a long black coat approached their mentor. They were surrounded by ocean and soldiers, and there was nowhere that man could have come from without alerting several people. It made no sense. 

_ “Remember, squires, if you see any unusual activity, report it immediately.” _

Goosebumps began to prickle across his skin. This was the exact kind of ‘unusual activity’ they had been warned about, not long after the Prydwen had arrived in the Commonwealth. He’d heard the rumors – there were even _ reports_. 

The Institute could teleport. 

Peter took a deep breath – maybe it was nothing. He still reached for his holstered flare gun, though, the ones that squires _ always _carried, and made sure it had a flare loaded. “Matt?” he asked. “Remember that thing I told you about a long time ago, after I got to go on that mission with Paladin Danse?” 

“The cover fire thing?” 

“Yeah. Let’s just head toward the gate, okay? Maybe keep your laser pistol out.” 

Matt glanced between Peter and the other men and took out his pistol. “But your brother said...” 

“Ash says lots of things. Just keep it out this once.” 

“Okay.” 

They dropped their dummies and started a careful walk in the direction of the gates, hoping to get to where they were in the line of sight of the guards stationed there. As they walked, they made sure to keep a watchful eye on Taylor and that other guy, and everything changed in a flash. 

“Get out of here!” Taylor bellowed at them across the beach. When Peter checked back to see what was going on, their mentor was firing at the other guy and trying to get to his own cover. One second, he was still putting up a fight. 

The next he’d been dusted. 

The boys broke into a run, diving behind some rusty crates half-buried in sand and ash while Peter looked around for the next thing they could run to. 

“Look! See that plane wing?” Peter asked. “You gotta make it over there, alright? Then I’ll follow.” 

“Alright.” 

“Take your safety off. Go!” 

As soon as he started off, Peter peeked out from behind the crate to find that the man in the black coat wasn’t far, but his eyes were set on him. 

_ Watch out for Williams, you know how his momma gets. _

He put on his bravest face and rose from behind his crate, one arm pointing his flare gun skyward. “Hey!” he screeched as he pulled the trigger and set off his flare. In a matter of seconds, the alert was being raised at the airport behind, and the man turned his attention to Peter, instead. 

When a couple of shaky laser rounds blasted from behind, he knew Williams had at least made it. 

_ “Well... if I die, I’ll die with honor, protecting my brothers and sisters.” _

Help was on the way. Now, he just had to make it to the gate. 

* * *

When he was little, and forced to carry a gun for his own safety, Ashton had learned that when something felt off – well, it most likely was. 

“Afternoon, Scabbard. I got the _ Retribution _on approach, requestin’ clearance.” 

Maybe it was the lack of radio chatter going during his final approach to the Prydwen, or maybe it was how still everything seemed to be when he swung wide over the airport and waited for clearance to dock. As busy as it had been earlier this morning, it just felt odd. 

“Morgan?” 

“The one and only.” 

There was an awful long pause before Ashton had gotten any word back. 

“You’re cleared for bay five.” 

That was it. No “afternoon, Morgan”, nothing else. 

And then, another funny thing. While the promised arm lowered and Ashton guided the ‘bird into it with practiced ease, Kells came out to stand on the deck and wait. 

Ashton took off his flight helmet and placed it in the seat next to him while the team he was flying got on out. He started his list – he turned off the engine and made sure that the landing gear had properly withdrawn. When the team was gone, Kells still stayed behind. He hadn’t kept any of the others back to talk. 

“Morgan.” 

“Sir?” 

He’d ignored Kells as long as he could, anyway. 

“I need you to report to the Command Deck, son.” 

_ Son_? When the _ hell _ did Kells call anybody _ that_? 

“With respect, sir, I ain’t done with my list yet,” he said. He kept himself still, not allowing himself to shake even though every alarm there was went off in his head. Something had probably happened out on the beach, and Lord help him if Petey had gotten shot in the ass or something... 

“Let me do it then, Morgan.” 

He finally turned away from the buttons on the console to see Kells standing there with his lips pressed in a firm line. The man was careful not to give anything away, but that one sentence told him all he needed to know. 

Kells - 

Commander of the _ whole damn ship - _

Stood there and held his hand to take Ashton’s clipboard, in an offer to do grunt work that he probably hadn’t had to bother with in years. 

Ashton’s feet could not fly fast enough once they hit the catwalk. Every ounce of professionalism that he had tore away with every step he took, while deck scribes stopped to whisper and the guards at the door did nothing more than stare at him. 

He no longer gave a damn about rank. He no longer gave a damn about who was in there. Though he still had no idea what had happened, he was ready to rip somebody a new one by the time he had reached the Command deck. 

Even if it was Danse, and Diana, and Maxson that waited. 

“What the hell happened?!” he roared. He didn’t get an immediate answer, but it turned out he didn’t need much of one. While everyone was busy struggling with their words, he spotted the holotags in Diana’s hands and everything in his world came to a crashing halt. 

He balled his hands into fists while he waited. If the worst had happened like he feared it had, he would sooner lash out than take their kindness. Anything, _ anything _was better than their kindness. 

All he needed was for someone to answer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...  
Still intentionally vague between different viewpoints, but now you have a few more answers. In time, ALL will be explained.  
But anyway, now you know Williams made it. The "shaken family in the medbay" was his family, they were just all freaked the hell out over the events that had taken place.
> 
> As stated in the past, this is important for a myriad of reasons. Groundwork. All that stuff.
> 
> If you'll excuse me I'm going to go sob now because I can't hug Morgan.


	33. Para Bellum

_Paladin Hudson – MIA_   
_Knight-Sergeant Merric – KIA_   
_Knight-Sergeant Dawes – KIA_

There were still many unforgiving lessons for Arthur to learn, it seemed. 

_Knight Varham – KIA_   
_Scribe Faris – KIA_   
_Knight Astlin – KIA_

Each of them carried a name. 

He was no stranger to the demands of war. He had been raised to bear the burden of casualty, to make the impossible decisions that led to those casualties. He’d known from a very young age that no matter what calls he would make, that not everyone could be protected. Even so, some things still did not fail to shake him. 

_ Squire Morgan _ _ \- ? _

What the _ hell _kind of message was the Institute trying to send, here? Was this because of his upcoming meeting with the Minutemen? Peter Morgan was a _ child. _

“_Don’t_.” 

The ice in Morgan’s tone cut through his thoughts like a knife and Arthur opened his eyes to see the lancer – his _ friend –_ as he stood there poised to strike. His muscles were tensed, jaw clenched, fighting the notion that he’d lost everything that he’d signed up to protect. 

“Don’t you _ dare _give me them tags.” 

“Ashton, I...” Knight Carter started as she reached toward the Lancer, who physically recoiled. He had to trust that this wasn’t going to turn catastrophic. 

“You _ what_?!” Morgan snapped, and Arthur watched as Paladin Danse shifted to put himself between the two of them, likely unwilling to take any chances while Morgan still fought to tame his rage. “Y’all can’t even tell me _ what happened to him_.” 

Every word in the sentence had been clipped, precise – as though Morgan had been a falcon diving for his prey and he _ knew _it. The words did more than sting the knight. It would have been more merciful to have gutted her. 

The whole of his ship may as well have been aflame, and it did not help matters knowing that those few that were stationed just outside of the command deck were likely hanging on to every word that was being spoken. More fuel to stoke the flame of rumor, but there was no time to have to tame any more rumor. He’d had enough. 

“_Morgan_,” he warned, resorting to his authority to restore some semblance of peace. The buzz of tension that had rung through the deck finally began to subside, leaving Morgan scowling up at the Paladin that stood between him and Carter. It felt like an age before Morgan’s muscles finally began to relax, before his scowl began to fade into something far more hopeless. 

There wasn’t anything here to fight. 

“I can’t do this. I can’t take those.” 

“I understand.” 

“_Please _don’t make me take those.” 

His throat bobbed when he swallowed, his voice wavered for the first time since Arthur had met him. And, for the first time since Arthur had become Elder, he was unsure what words there were to say. No amount of careful grooming, no amount of active service where he had witnessed countless injustices and atrocities had prepared him for this. 

“I can take them,” said a quiet voice, and all three of the men turned their attention to the Knight. Even after being stricken down and gutted, she still seemed to carry some resolve. “I can keep them safe for you until you’re ready.” 

Perhaps that resolve was why Danse had recruited her. 

Morgan, in the meantime, did not speak. It was all he could do to manage a slow nod while he stood in the center of the room, soul laid bare for the entirety of the Brotherhood to see. It was unfair. 

“You’re free to go, Lancer. Take all the time you need. However, before you leave - ” 

“Yessir?” 

He repressed the urge to sigh. _ This _was unfair. 

“The Brotherhood will honor him, Morgan. I can grant him the rank of Knight, if you’re willing.” 

It was the best that Arthur could come up with – elevating the squire to knight posthumously, making sure that his short tenure was recorded in the codex. The boy had managed to save the life of the other squire with his quick actions. He’d be the youngest to be granted that rank, even younger than Arthur had been. He deserved that tribute. 

“Alright.” 

Still, it felt _ wrong_, because the child deserved much more than that. If he had any say in the matter, it would never happen again. 

He was dimly aware that there was still a Paladin and a Knight off to his side while he watched his friend’s retreat. Once the door to the flight deck was shut and Morgan was gone, he turned his attention back to the pair and studied them. The Knight stood next to her Paladin, arms once again folded behind her back in an attempt to look put together while she waited for further instruction. She looked too lost to look entirely bulletproof. 

And then there was Danse. The Paladin still carried himself with the same propriety that was expected of him, though he had his tells. He still looked worn, beneath it, and Arthur hoped the man would take the time off that Cade had once again recommended. The day had already been long, he _ needed _that time, but he did have one last request of Danse. 

“Paladin.” 

“Sir?” 

“The Minutemen delegation is due to arrive, soon,” he said, his brow wrinkling in thought. The man may not be a politician, but Danse was a good judge of character. Arthur would welcome his opinions when they left. “I’d like you to attend the meeting. You’d be free to take your leave once that was concluded.” 

“Absolutely, sir. However, the leave won’t be -” the Paladin began, but to Arthur’s surprise he stopped himself. “Yes. Cade made that recommendation for the both of us.” 

_ Hmm_. 

He had almost expected Danse to put up more of a protest than that. After all, the time off wasn’t mandatory. However, it had not escaped his notice that the man had studied his knight before choosing the more careful answer, and not for the first time since they’d all been on the command deck. He supposed that he could attribute Danse’s apparent concern to the fall she’d taken. For _ now _. 

“Alright, then. I’ll send for you here, shortly. Until then, you’re dismissed.” 

In the meantime, he would prepare. He would take his post at the head of the command deck and look out across the ruins of Boston, he would consult Kells when he joined, and hope that this delegation was not a waste of his time. He was not here to put on airs for a local militia. 

If he wanted to restore some semblance of peace, then his potential allies needed to prepare themselves for war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Si vis pacem, para bellum", or, "if you want peace, prepare for war."
> 
> I know it's short-ish. The next part did not fit as neatly as I would have liked, so I stuck to _just_ Arthur's point of view. Which, I mean. I have the next few chapters outlined, and in some parts partially written. I'm not gonna make empty promises on when I'll update, but KNOW THIS: I am excited to write, again.  
I am only here to yeet one last nugget of hurt in your general direction before I start with the "comfort" part of the "emotional hurt/comfort" tag.  
Also, to say thank you for like, not hurling me off a cliff yet. 
> 
> Tomorrow, it will have been a year since I posted my first chapter, which is WILD. All I can say is THANK YOU to everyone that has stuck with me for this ride. Your kudos, your comments, especially your enthusiasm have kept me going. I love y'all.


End file.
